Clean Living
by Cliscia
Summary: Sex is Kenny's high, but vanilla is boring. Nobody is willing to play along with his weird and sometimes creepy and disturbing kinks. Nobody except Butters, who doesn't realize the depravity of it until it is too late.
1. Chapter 1

**So I just watched episode 1412, Mysterion Rises, and wanted to write a Kenny fic VERY BADLY. I wanted to write one about him being Mysterion and his new character development, but I think the next episode will be crucial, so I'm going to wait to write a canon-based fic until this season finishes. Instead, I came up with this. I know a lot of people portray Kenny as being a slut, but he's never really that kinky, just horny. This is basically the opposite of that, and Butters was the perfect candidate I could think of for the role that I needed. So enjoy, it will be very dirty in the future~ Also, yeah, I'll update Bon Appetite, hrf.**

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I wouldn't necessarily say that I have a problem, no more of a problem than any other guy my age would have, I just take it to the next level. I'm a nice guy, I have morals, I am loyal to my friends and will sacrifice myself for the greater good. Coming from such a low income household, where everything is hand-me-downs, cutting out coupons so that we can have food for next week, and only showering once every three or four days to save money for the water bill, I understand the importance of charity and the act of giving; kindness. It's all in how you define 'problem', anyway. If you mean that I fantasize about engaging in deprived sexual acts at the expense of my partner, then yes, I would have a problem. But I don't consider that a problem, really.

Honestly, everyone thinks about sex, don't try to deny it. I don't care who you are, you could be the most evangelical Christian or the most fundamentalist Muslim or the school spelling champion, but you've thought about it, and you like it. Why wouldn't you? It's human nature, instinct. It's pleasurable for a reason, to keep you to continue doing it, to populate the Earth, and ensure that your genes carry on to the next generation (Information courtesy of Kyle, I just call it 'fucking'). Or at least, that's half way true. For the majority of us, it's the first part. Pleasure. No other motivation apart from that need to sin.

But 'sin' is a bullshit word. If God created the universe, then he created sin as well, along with Hell. And if God is all-knowing and all-loving, that means that either sin resided in him, or he's not so loving after all. Only the Mormons get into heaven, anyway, so what use is 'sin', anyway, if the only thing that judges your worth as a human when your life comes to an end is if you believed in Mormonism? Nothing, that's what. Greed, gluttony, envy, sloth, pride, lust, wrath- that's human nature, it's not a 'sin'. Wanting to get your jollies off is no more of a sin then wanting to succeed in life, although I wouldn't necessarily say those two things are equal.

People like to fuck, and people like to indulge, the fact that I admit this and am more open to it doesn't make me any less or more moral or ethical. What gets me off isn't sick or twisted, at least, not to me. And who is anyone else to judge? As long as it's consensual, it's okay, right? In fact, you could say that it's more moral, because lying is not moral, and this way, I'm not lying about my sexual preferences. And really, I don't really care what you're into, I'm not picky, just don't make it boring. It seems most people don't exactly share my same sentiments, though.

It's hard to get someone to comply to what I want, whether it's getting them to call me 'daddy' or to give me a footjob or to cross-dress, to name a few of the light ones (I can get much more hardcore). I'll gladly comply with my partner's fetishes, so it shouldn't be so hard to ask the same in return so long as it doesn't hurt them. Or so you'd think, but this is exactly my problem.

You see, I've been doing this for a while, the whole sex thing. At an early age it started to show, but the older I got the more out of control it became. It was and is the driving force of my physical pleasures, my high. Some people have hobbies or exceed at their job, you name it, but this is mine. It's my fix, my addiction, and I need it. But since I've been doing it for so long, it has started to become stale. Timid girls in missionary position just don't do it for me anymore. I need something more, something exciting that makes my blood roar in my head and my legs go week with lust.

One of the first times that I'd had sex with a boy (like I said, I'm not picky. I prefer girls and sweet tits, but there's something about a man that makes me rock hard as well) was with Clyde Donovan, this kid from my senior English class. Girls had started to get boring at this point, so I moved on to Clyde. Clyde was stupid and gullible, a complete crybaby idiot, but seemed pretty slutty. It was like sex with a girl, but with a guy, but this was just enough of a difference to be new and exciting. After a couple of times with him it started to get dull again. Looking for some sort of excitement as he panted in his afterglow of me jerking him off, I asked him to eat the mess off of my hand and his stomach. A simple request? He'd had his fun, and now it was my turn. But to him, it was 'way too gross, man', and he cut it off. That was fine with me, I'd been bored anyway.

Bebe Stevens was next. She did what Clyde wouldn't do, but more and more I got bored. I was tired of being in control. I asked her to use a strap on. It wouldn't hurt her, it was my risk. But that was too weird for her, and I wasn't really 'her type', anyway (so why did she sleep with me all those times?).

Craig Tucker seemed like a good next candidate. Science kid, dark and handsome, bitchy as _shit,_ a complete dominant personality. He was easy to get, and had no qualms about fucking my ass as hard as I asked for. But when he cummed in me and I asked him to eat it out, he refused and gave me the finger. 'You've got issues, McCormick', he said. I don't see how this is an issue, we just like different things. Craig would have been good, and eventually we got back together for another shot, but when he gave me a blowjob and I grabbed his head and facefucked him so hard that he choked and gagged on my dick, that seemed to piss him off. Craig isn't much for switching roles. Dominant, or nothing.

And it went on and off like that. Kyle, Wendy, Token, a fair amount of hookers here and there, and once even Cartman (his fat didn't really put me off, it was just different, but he only wanted to roleplay Nazis and stuff and wasn't much of a giver), you name it. But I wasn't satisfied, not really, because I never got what _I_ wanted. I wanted to experiment.

No one ever agreed, because everyone thought too hard about it, too much about themselves. 'No, Kenny, I don't want you to watch me take a piss, what's wrong with you?' It's not like it hurt them, but I couldn't do anything to change their mind. People started to blur together, in a sexual sense. When I look at someone, all I ever tried to do now is figure out, without asking, how compliant they'd be to my requests. It's harder than it sounds.

And that's where I am now, bored with my high; unsatisfied. And, well, frankly, pissed off because I haven't gotten action in a while due to my personal kinks. Now is just school, school, school. No fun ever since I started going to college. Since my family is shit poor, I pay for it myself along with my apartment, meaning that when I'm not studying, I'm working, and have no time to go party or look for people to screw. Which is, in fact, what I'm doing right now.

The library is quiet, is _meant_ to be quiet, so that's why I'm here, to do homework in peace. College is a lot different from South Park High, there's not nearly as much drama, and without my three friends (well, two, anyway), life is pretty quiet. Maybe they were just bad luck, but I also haven't died as much with them gone. All in all, life is dull. Just like this question.

It's not as if I expect microeconomics to be entertaining, but- well, okay, basically just that. Graphing out marginal costs and deadweight loss will always be boring as fuck. Thinking about my wants annoys me even more, because it reminds me that I don't have access to them. I mean, really, I'd even go for just some chick in doggy style right now, that's how desperate I am. I said I wasn't picky, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I _am_ picky, but sex is sex and-

"Hi, Kenny!"

Since I'd been at the library where people would sit down next to me to work, I guess I didn't notice the person come up and take the seat across from me, but hearing my name, I looked up, startled out of my concentration.

It took me a while to realize who it was. The semester had just started so it couldn't have been a classmate of mine because they wouldn't have known my name, so it must have been someone from South Par-

Oh.

"Hey, Butters." I looked back down at my homework, not trying to hide how exasperated I sounded. Butters was a tool, and everyone had always treated him as such. He was used to it. And as such, he didn't seem put off.

"W-Why I'm so surprised, Kenny, I didn't know you went here, too!" I'm surprised he recognized who I was in the first place, people change quickly. He was wearing glasses, now, and had cut his hair, which had been longer in high school. And it looked as though he had even picked up a fashion sense. Definitely not Butters.

"That's because I didn't tell anyone." 'For exactly this reason', I thought, but didn't voice it. I'm actually quite shy.

"Oh, well, it sure is good to see you, I've missed everyone from school a bunch and so I've-"

I tuned him out, continuing to try and look at my homework, which didn't work out very well when he kept blabbering in the background. Trying to concentrate on concentrating was interrupted, however, when I noticed him taking some books out of his bag, getting situated. I'd thought he had just come over to say hi, not to stay. I didn't really want to put up with him.

"-and so then I said 'Mister, I know you're real nice and, all, but-"

I sighed, and set down my pencil, looking up. "Look, Butters," I said as I gathered my things up and straightened my papers, "it was nice catching up with you and all, but I was actually just finishing up and I have work in a little while and-"

"But you have a question mark written on this one, don't you?" Butters reached out as I stood and moved to walk away, setting his hand onto my homework that had slipped out somewhat from beneath my arm. He pulled it out of the stack when I didn't yell at him. "I'm majoring in marketing, so I can help you?"

I paused. Sure, Butters was gullible, but he was nice nonetheless. It wouldn't hurt if he helped me out.

Butters smiled at me as I weighed my options, and eventually my longing for an A in the class made me sit back down. I scooted up, and he placed the paper between us. Marginal cost and marginal revenue, they cross at the ATC and that's where the profit is maximized and- we went over it a couple of times. Okay, more than a couple of times, I was never the smartest kid in class. Eventually it started to make sense, and I wrangled Butters into doing the rest of my homework for me. I don't know if it was because of my charisma, or because Butters was just so naïve, but my homework got done either way.

"…And so that makes this area the consumer surplus. Do you understand now?"

"I think so," I said, shading in the triangle that I had drawn on the graph, "like this?"

Butters nodded in approval, and I smiled, feeling relieved and accomplished as I slumped back in my chair, finally done with my homework ordeal. I looked up at the ceiling, thinking about what my next task would be. I had work in two hours, so maybe I'd get something to eat and watch TV. I needed a hobby.

"Anything else you need?" Butters broke the silence, and I groaned since I had been enjoying it, but then paused.

I didn't really know jack-shit about Butters, and I needed a hobby, so maybe- I smiled. It was worth a shot. At best he'd comply, at worst, he'd get freaked out and run away, but it was Butters, so no loss.

"Yeah, actually, I do." I leaned forward, trying to seem as confident and sexy as possible. "Will you say- …'Please, Daddy?' for me, Butters?" Hell, I think I even pouted slightly.

Butters blinked, silent. Well, damn, it was worth the shot. He opened his mouth, looking confused, but did it.

"Please, daddy?"

It was my turn to blink and be silent. Absolutely silent, because maybe I didn't hear right? Maybe he just-

"…Please, daddy?" Apparently Butters thought I didn't hear, either.

I groaned, and I could feel myself getting instantly hard. I couldn't believe he just- did he just- oh god I was so turned on, and I instantly imagined me fucking him, holding his head down into a mattress as I rammed into him, or in public where he would wear heels and-

I was so stupid. I was so stupid for trying to look for a challenge, someone different to satisfy my needs. But what I really needed was for someone naïve and gullible enough to do what I asked and not think too hard about it; Butters. This couldn't be screwed up.

"T-Thanks, Butters." I pushed down the horniness, trying to act as normal as possible. "That helps me a lot."

"W-Well shucks, Kenny, I don't think I really understand why you wanted me to-"

"No reason! Oh, um, I mean, well, I don't know, I guess I just miss my family a lot? I mean Denver is far away, right?" Shit, was that a good lie?

Butters seemed to buy it, though, and smiled, looking as chipper as ever. "Oh, yeah, it is! Ya see, that's why I'm so gosh darn lonely, I'm shy and I don't really make friends easy, I miss South Park. But I found you, Kenny, s-so if you like, we could hang out? Or I could just help you with your homework again?"

I'll admit, I was shocked at being shocked. Butters liked to follow people around, but I'd imagined it would have been harder to get to see him again in order to start getting him to do- things- for me. But instead, he was the one to offer first. So, so easy.

"Yeah, Butters, that sounds great." I genuinely smiled, and Butters smiled bigger in return.

"Oh, thanks Kenny! I promise it'll be fun, and I live in a dorm now so I don't gotta worry about my parents bein sore about nothin, so we can do whatever we want! Here, here's my number, so you don't forget."

He ripped off a piece of paper from his notebook and scribbled the numbers down, sliding the scrap across the table to me. I picked it up, and looked at it, rummaging through my pockets for my cell.

"Oh, hamburgers! Well, I'm real sorry Kenny, but I forgot that I was on my way to pick up a cake for my grandma- it's her 80th birthday next week, can you believe it?- so I gotta go. I guess I just got distracted. I'll see you around, okay?" He smiled, and I nodded as I watched him wave goodbye, muttering about being late as he left.

I looked back down at the paper in my hands. It was Butters phone number, and he'd drawn a little heart next to it. What a fag. …And absolutely perfect.

I had two hours left before work, and a throbbing erection. I knew what I was going to do between now and then.

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**Review if you want Kenny to engage in some seriously sick and kinky stuff. I know I do~**


	2. Chapter 2

**So I'm loving this fic so far, writing it is fun, so expect quick updates from me. I'm more in a writing mood than a drawing mood, now, so appreciate it while it lasts~ Also, I used to work at Wendy's before I got fired for having pink hair. Welcome to the second installment of Kinky Kenny, enjoy your ride.**

Work is boring. I mean, let me say it in a different way so you don't judge me and think I'm lazy: I like money, and I understand that having a good work ethic makes you a more disciplined person, but really, I cannot tell you with a straight face that counting back change and handing out fast food is exciting. Some people might say 'Oh, Kenny! You have to do something with your life, don't degrade yourself like that, when you have so many talents!', but that's bullshit, and a part time job is money. Besides, who are they to say I'm talented? I don't have talents (unless you count my immortality) or smarts, I'm just dedicated.

I'm not smart, I'm not talented, and I'm not rich. I just work hard, no thanks to my dad, who never did squat for us. Or maybe actually thanks to my dad, because he motivated me to get a better education, so I never had to wind up like him. And maybe after years of listening to '_they took 'r jawbs!_' finally made me realize that I needed to work hard to stay on top.

In any case, working at Wendy's isn't so bad, just boring and not challenging. I've come to learn that a job is a job, money is money, and if I'm lucky enough to not have to do the work that an illegal immigrant often has to do, I won't complain. And besides, I actually get to keep my hood up.

I said before that I'm shy, but that might not really be the case. I guess I'm just a reserved person, and don't like to share my private life with everyone in the world, and for some reason, this translates to me finding security in having my face covered. If I were a woman, maybe I'd be Muslim and wear a hijab, but this is different. I'm not ashamed of my body or my looks and don't find it necessarily a _need_ to cover myself, it's just comforting. In fact, I'm quite happy with my face and body, I just like to have the feeling of being private. It means taking off my hood more purposeful.

And that's why this job has its perks, even with its mundane nature. Since I work in the only drive thru window and just receive money and in return hand customers their triple baconator supreme deluxe combo meal, I don't do much talking. It's cold back here. It's funny, you'd think Wendy's (a multi-million (or is it billion?) dollar company) would have money to heat their entire restaurant, but I guess those patties don't pay for themselves. And in keeping from being sued, I'm allowed to wear a coat or jacket or a long sleeved tee, depending on my mood back here, to keep from freezing to death. I usually choose the coat.

Maybe the fast-food network isn't very big in Denver, or there's less grease-addicted people here, but Wendy's doesn't get a lot of drive-thru action, leaving me to just draw up my hood as tight as it can go, and think. It's relaxing, like I'm in my own little world. My managers don't like it, but they don't really care since I work harder and clean more than the rest of my coworkers. 'Just don't mumble to the customers, and take off that goddamned hood when you're counting back change.' Whatever, okay.

During the downtimes between customers and sweeping or dropping fries into the grill, I usually like to think. Just reflect. Some people might call it meditating, but I call it sifting through my thoughts and organizing my mind. It helps me analyze what happened that day or week or year so I don't get stressed and helps answer the 'so where do I go from here?' question better. I think about friends and memories and ambitions and my deaths. And usually it's just that. But for the past week, I've had something else to think about, something _much_ more exciting.

Like I said, I need a hobby. Or, well, _needed_ a hobby, because the time I've spent investing in thinking about that blonde kid has really added up. And blondes aren't usually my type, but I haven't gotten action in a while. Not to say I don't masturbate, because that would be a lie if there ever was one. By 'getting action', I mean quite frankly just having something to stick my dick into. But no, sex is an art, and I don't want to ruin it by going back to courting girls for days on end just to be able to have vanilla sex.

Instead, a lot of my time back here in the cold annex of Wendy's drive through has been spent thinking about the potential that I might see in Butters if I play my cards right. I mean, he's pretty naïve and dense, never truly assessing the situation and just assuming the best out of everybody, but that doesn't mean I can just go up to him and say 'Hey, Butters, do you mind if you wore pantyhose for me out in public?', because he's not _that_ stupid. And besides, that would be no fun.

Having thought about it a lot, I've realized that I'd have to take it slow. Butters isn't the sort of sleep and run kind of guy, and while I'm not looking for a boyfriend and all of his baggage, that's my best option. Gaining Butters trust would be easy so long as I feigned an interest in him and his personal life, pretending to care about _him_. 'Oh Kenny', he would say for sure 'oh yes I will be your boyfriend, w-why- I'm so happy that you asked!' But getting him to unknowingly stimulate me would be harder, until I finally did seduce him into sleeping with me, and at that point, he would likely do whatever I asked. Butters tended to cling to any attention that was paid to him. Everyone was his best friend, and I would be his _best_ best friend.

But maybe I'm being too hard on Butters, these things aren't necessarily _bad_, just- easy to take advantage of. And like I said, I'm just in it for the sex. Love and sex are two different things. I'm not looking for heartbreak city, just some way for me to give someone a rimjob.

I wouldn't just pick anybody, either. Butters is attractive in his own way; he certainly grew up physically since High School, from what I saw. Average height, skinny but with definite baby fat that I don't think will ever go away, round face, and a nice looking ass. Not too bad, but not great, but still, a little more than adequate. And I have to say, the glasses are a nice touch, even though it's not his choice that his vision sucks now. And of course, he can only get better naked.

There's not a definite kink of mine that I'd consider my favorite. I have a lot of favorites, and different excites me. I'm always willing to try something new. Imagining them on Butters feels wonderful, because the only thing better then masturbating, is masturbating and knowing that it might actually come true, that I _just might_ get Butters to let me dress him up in leather and jack off onto his face.

I groan, feeling a hardon coming, the only downside to thinking about my _hobby_ at work. But it's okay, because my shift ends in ten minutes and I've already finished up with my end-of-the-night duties. Besides, no one visits me back here, and I can think about having Butters bouncing up and down on my cock, moaning as his panties get in the way, without any trouble. No, no trouble at all. But I definitely have an erection now.

It feels great, that pleasure, that absolute _need_. I know all about being horny, and damn if I'm not more in the mood now than ever before. Because honestly, _I'm looking forward to this._ The past couple of months have been work and school, work and school. No Stan, no Kyle (and Cartman), no one night (disappointing) stands, no parties, no drugs, no anything other than tests and chicken nuggets. And maybe I miss South Park, and maybe that's why Butters sudden appearance is what is making me so excited. But I doubt it. I really just want to pound into his ass.

Definitely, definitely that. I think my hand is down my pants, and I get up to lock the door, which is harder than you'd think with a raging erection. I contemplated going back to sit down, but instead I just slid back against the door and sat on the ground, because I didn't want my hand off of my dick for one second, didn't want to think about anything else but Butters for one second.

Butters, Butters, Butters. Yes, it had to be Butters, Butters had to be the answer, Butters had to be the one that would finally let me fuck him with a sparkly pink dildo while I ground against his side in a public bathroom. Oh, yes, Butters with his short, short hair and big eyes and soft voice that went 'o-oh hamburgers, o-oh shucks Kenny, fuck me harder!' Yes, perfect. Absolutely perfect.

I rubbed over the head of my cock with my thumb, licking my lips as I smeared my precum down like lubricant. Oh, I was a slut, dirty, and I wanted to be _used._ I wanted to do everything imaginable, I wanted to flip him over onto his back and lift his legs up so that his ankles were next to his ears, and ram into him as I watched his hair bounce up and down. I wanted him to slap me as hard as he could as I told him to FUCK ME, oh yes, yes, I wanted him to _fuck me_ so hard. I wanted him to call me daddy as I jerked him off, fingering him, and kissing him and yes, yes, yes!

And this was my favorite part, the part where I knew that I was reaching orgasm. Orgasm isn't just there and then gone, it comes in waves. I closed my eyes, jerking my hand erratically, feeling the sensation come high and then fall down, then rising up again as my toes curled and my dick throbbed and I moaned through the heat and feeling and want and need and pleasure and _Butters._

I don't know who says that orgasm is white, it's always been black to me. Every thought and feeling builds up, builds, builds, builds, and then explodes into black. Because you can't think of anything at all, even when you'd been fantasizing while masturbating the entire time. Everything just _is,_ you just _are._ It doesn't last long, either, but I don't complain. I doubled over, my blonde hair falling in my face as I came, spurts of semen hitting the ground.

And I panted. Felt so good, good, good, good. There's a point after orgasm when you're numb, and it wears off, but nothing else is on your mind at all, just breathing and pleasure. I felt that, felt it every time. I felt myself grow limp, and I let my hand go, moving it up to wipe at my forehead, breathing heavily like I'd run a marathon. My eyes stayed closed, because I was still slightly in that fantasy world of Butters and only Butters.

It wasn't Imaginationland, it didn't last forever, and after a short while, the ground suddenly felt cold and my parka felt too hot. I groaned, and stood up slowly, getting a napkin from the condiment counter first and wiping off my hand and the ground where I'd made a mess. Tossing it in the trash, I undid the drawstrings of my coat and released a sigh, feeling the cold air against my skin as I unzipped it. Refreshing. I looked at the clock. 11:28 pm. Well, wasn't I lucky.

I grinned and unlocked the door, glad that my shift was over (well, basically), and looked into the backroom. Empty. I supposed everyone must have left, so I gathered up my keys and schedule for next week, going to the front register to clock out.

The dining room was empty (I always thought it was funny that they called it that. I mean shit, it's a two dollar hamburger, you're not _dining_ anywhere, that's the point) apart from a couple of younger girls that were still cleaning up the mess of ketchup that some kid must have thrown in a temper tantrum. I moved to enter in my number and password into the cash register, and was irritated when it wouldn't accept.

"You finally took off that coat?"

I didn't look over at my manager, knowing who it was, and just nodded a reply when my data was finally accepted.

"You should keep it off more often, customers like looking at a good looking face."

I didn't think that Mike was gay, but he was sure socially awkward, and must have been watching too many shows on the WE channel; girls could compliment each other's looks, but if a guy did, then he was a fag. Simple as that.

"Thank you." I didn't really know what else to say, I knew I was good looking, and not conceited, either.

"You're too quiet, kid, you should talk more." He eyed me as he began shutting down the burger making station, picking a piece of lettuce out of the ketchup bin.

I waited as my shift receipt printed out. "Maybe next time," I said, as I ripped it off and shoved it in my back pocket, "my shift is over now. Bye."

He might have said 'bye' back, but I wasn't sure, and frankly didn't care. We had a lot of managers, and it was just my job. Family was family, work was work, and friends were friends. Well… I hadn't spoken to my family in a while, and I left my friends behind in South Park. Maybe I should be more open to my coworkers. Then again, the only thing we had in common was flipping burgers, not exactly a recipe for undying friendship.

The parking lot was dark and cold, and if I was a woman, I would have had to been walked to my pickup because of how desolate this place was. It was a strange place for a Wendy's, a couple of miles off the outerbelt, and not really near any major residential or commercial areas. The only thing that close was a 7/11 a couple hundred yards down. I shivered, and put back on my orange parka, not bothering to zip it up or draw the hood.

I fished for my keys in my pockets, pulling them out and clicking the unlock button. Call it white trailer trash, but I liked my pickup. Maybe not everything about my upbringing was thrown away and rejected, because I liked cars, NASCAR, and most of all, trucks. It was beat up, second hand, and a 1997 model, but I paid for it on my own and fixed it up on my own, the closest thing to what you might call a _real_ hobby. Speaking of which-…

Opening up the door and stepping in to flop down onto the battered seat, I put my keys in the ignition and turned up the heat to low, getting comfortable before looking for my cell phone. I dug around blindly in the dark (I still had to fix my mirror light), until my hand finally bumped into it, recognizing it since it was so cold. Rubbing it between my hands a little, I flipped open the screen, clicking on 'contacts', and scrolling down. …Broflovski… Butters… Cartman… Oh, no, wait, go back, just Butters. I stared at his name.

It's not like I was nervous or anything like that, I had purposefully waited a couple of days so that he would anticipate my call, and so that I would have the upper hand and get to call the shots. But, I was excited. I really, really wanted this. And so, I pressed down on the little green button, and put my cell to my ear, listening to it as it rang.

It rang for a while, and I started to feel put off, but finally I heard a click, and a groggy voice.

"H- Hello?" He sounded tired. Oh, yeah, it was almost midnight on a Thursday. Oops.

"Hi, Butters."

There was a pause, like he was still tired and didn't know exactly what was going on, but when he did, he perked right up. "Oh! Hi, Kenny! Shucks, I didn't think you'd ever call! I-I thought that maybe I was interuptin you about the homework and all, s-so-"

"Butters, are you doing anything tomorrow afternoon?" I interrupted him.

"Why, I don't think so, well in the morning I have a biology test and it's real hard but I get off at four and-"

"Would you _like_ to be doing something tomorrow afternoon?" Again, I interrupted him. But this wasn't an issue. I was, after all, setting up our entire relationship in a few short words, so that he knew _I_ took the lead, and _I _called the shots, and he should just be happy to be included.

Another pause, as he thought over exactly what I meant. When he replied, he wasn't as immediately excited as before. "Oh- yes, Kenny, I'd love to, I'm so happy you called. Did you want to go somewhere? Or we could just see a movie or somethin like that?"

I smiled. Everything was perfect. "'Somewhere' is exactly right, and it'll be a surprise. Just meet me at the library again, like before. Five would be fine."

"Alright, Kenny, I'll be sure to be there, I'll get there extra early so that you don't have to wait around or nothin." The thought was appealing. But before he forgot-

"Oh, and Butters?"

"Yeah, Kenny?"

"Wear that catholic boy's uniform you had for a while, would you."

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**But do you REALLY want to know what Kenny's biggest kink is? Reviews~ and I have to say, I'm loving the ones you've given me.**


	3. Chapter 3

**THE TRUTH IS they go to my university, just under a different name. I always insert people and places that I know into my stories and fanfiction. And since I checked out Brave New World (it's great) for banned books month, I got free popcorn too~

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All my life I've lived in the cold, so I guess I don't really mind it anymore. Having grown up in Colorado in a house that often can't afford heating, being cold is just natural. But just because it's natural doesn't mean that I'm oblivious to it. I like coats and sweaters and hats and earmuffs, not just to hide my face away and separate myself from the world, but because they're there for a _reason_, and that reason is to make me feel like it's in the forties instead of below freezing. Because shit, it really is cold.

Like I said, though, I'm used to it. …Well, okay, used to the _idea_ of being cold, because you never actually get used to the freezing feeling. Some people say that Hell wouldn't be so bad, because eventually you'd get used to it, and the people who live in the far north get used to the cold as well. I can say this is bullshit, though, because I've been to both Hell _and_ South Park, and you don't get used to either.

Only winter and summer come to South Park. There is no in between like fall or spring, so I guess I've come to accept that I'm either going to be sweating or going to need braces because my teeth won't stop chattering. And I guess I'm okay with that, so long as I have a house to go back to with heating. There's something about the freeze that makes everything seem more personal and drawn in. Unlike the summer that is open and airy and bright, winter is dark and reserved, secretive. And I like that.

Being reserved myself, I feel like it's my personal season. It's the part of the year where I have an excuse to draw my hood up and lock myself away behind cotton padding. No one notices because everyone is cold. Everyone wants to escape and hide behind a coat, but I guess they don't get as attached to it as I do, because once summer comes, they all take their winter apparel off in favor of tank tops and sandals. Not to say that I don't too, but I have a harder time of letting go of my parkas, which is why I hate summer more than anyone else. I really can't stand the heat.

I'm lucky, though, because it's the middle of October, and the weather is fucked up because of global warming (or is it? I'm not sure to believe), making it absolutely freezing, and the next day it's like it's July again. Today is frigid, though, and I happily shrugged on a new coat that I'd bought a couple of weeks ago. I don't really do that much clothes shopping, but I really love coats, and the color orange has just always been appealing.

Waking up cold isn't fun, though, because you have no time to adjust. Suddenly you're thrown out of warm and cozy blankets into the pain of waking up, which is even worse when it's ten degrees outside and you don't have any slippers. Which is what happened to me this morning, but I didn't mind, because I remembered.

Sometimes a good wakeup call is necessary, though, especially when you'd just been dreaming about video games and PSPs, when instead you should be thinking about the blonde kid who'd be dressing in heels while sucking your dick in less than a week if you acted suave enough that afternoon. And in my case, this happened to be exactly true. Oh Butters, Butters.

The cold doesn't feel as bad while you're thinking about such things and jacking off in the shower to them, and it doesn't feel as bad while blow drying your hair, either, because both of these things are warm. Walking to your truck that's parked a couple of blocks down from your apartment because of construction is, though.

Heat always feels great when it's blasted in your face at the highest level on your dashboard, while your seat and steering wheel are still ice cold. I shivered, loving the contrast. It took a little while, but after pulling out of a perfect parallel park and onto the freeway, my car warmed up and everything felt absolutely great.

Today would be good, and I knew it. It'd only been a week since running into Butters (or Butters running into me if I wanted to be more accurate), but when you anticipate something, every second feels longer than it actually is. Nothing _important_ would happen, though, because this was a game that I knew the rules to, and the first rule was that Butters wasn't a slut. He wasn't a slut, but he _was_ trusting. Today would just be a day to secure myself into his friend-zone, and everything after that would be a cakewalk. How long it would be before Butters was wrapped around my finger and would be giving me a footjob, I didn't know, but I assumed it would be fast.

A couple of days? Weeks? Month- no, not months, that I was almost certain of. I knew Butters. All through Elementary, Middle, and High School I knew Butters, and so I knew that he didn't have many friends. There was that Dougie kid, but other than him and Cartman (who just took advantage of him), no one really paid attention to him unless they wanted something, and who ever wanted something from _Butters_ anyway? Nobody, he was pretty unpopular. I wasn't, though. I wasn't _the_ most popular kid because of being poor and all, but in Butters eyes, I was, and even though High School was long gone, it still never ended, and I knew he would cling to my friendship.

I drummed my fingers on my steering wheel, watching for the exit I needed to get to campus, switching lanes to be prepared. All in all, it would be easy, I knew that. I would be Butters best friend, and he would be willing to give anything to me in return, anything I asked for. He wouldn't say no, he wouldn't want to lose me, he wouldn't want to lose the company and companionship that I had to offer. He would do whatever I wanted, I was sure.

I said before that I was a nice guy, and I'd like to reiterate that. I was, after all, Mysterion. Or, well, I had been. After Cthulu was sent back to wherever it came from, and Bradley turned out to be an alien or something, I just sort of gave up. But maybe becoming 'indifferent' is a better word. I liked to help people, sure, I realize that everybody is human and shares all the feelings and ambitions and has their own set of memories, just like me, but there's no such thing as a superhero. I can't do everything at once. If I save a baby from a burning fire, then there is someone else, at the same time, trapped in a car with cobras (hell, what do I know), that I wasn't able to save because I was focusing on the baby.

Everything is a choice, and I don't want that responsibility. I don't want to have to choose between two different people and weigh their lives in perspective to each other. Who am I to decide who essentially lives and dies, especially since I cannot truly die myself? The Mysterion thing was me playing martyr, and I don't want to be a martyr anymore. Instead, I pick and choose. I don't pretend to be a sage in ethics or morals, I just try to do the right thing like everyone else, regardless of my curse. I'm over trying to be valiant; making the best of your situation is more admirable, anyway.

But even though I was Mysterion and whatnot, I'm still human, and while it's in my nature to be compassionate and friendly, it's also natural to me to lust after sex. I have flaws, and this is mine, because I'll go to whatever lengths there are to make sure that, in the end, I'm sexually satisfied. Maybe I'm taking advantage of Butters, but then again, maybe I'm not. After all, Butters is gaining companionship from this. Every second that he'll be with me will be his gain, but only sex is mine, and it doesn't last that long, frankly. In the end, it's symbiotic.

And even if I _was_ taking advantage of Butters, at least I'm not like Cartman. I wouldn't lead Butters on or do something to Butters that would result in something harming him as the outcome. No, I just want sex. That's all, and that's not hard to ask. I've been doing this for a while, it'd be good for him too. In the meantime, though, I have to gain his friendship and trust. We went to the same college, apparently, it shouldn't be that hard.

My car pulled into the library parking lot, and I drove up and down the rows looking for a place to park that wasn't too far from the library. In all honesty I probably spent more time looking for a spot than it would have taken me to park farther down and walk, but when I came back to my car, Butters would be with me, and I didn't want him getting too cold (he didn't wear as thick of coats I did). The thought was definitely appealing.

Realizing that five cars down from the first parking space was as close as I was going to get, I pulled in and stepped out, locking the door. I didn't think anyone was going to try and hotwire my rusty pickup, it just came naturally. Having been used to my heater, I shivered as a cold burst of wind hit me straight in the face. I shook it off, but pulled the strings on my hood a little tighter, just as a safe precaution.

The walk wasn't long, just a couple of blocks, and the scenery was nice. The University of Denver had old buildings and lots of trees, which looked good together. Old buildings didn't seem complete without trees; I couldn't imagine a university without a park. There weren't many students out, either, since it was around four fifty. I was all alone. The feeling was nice.

Walking into a building is a lot different from getting into your car and blasting the heater. It's more of a gradual transition, instead of a burst of hot air that hits in you in the face. The light was fake and fluorescent, a sharp contrast from the outdoors. I squinted, and pulled down my coat hood, shaking out my blonde hair, looking around.

No sign of Butters.

He'd said he would be extra early, but I didn't see him sitting at a table or using a computer. That made me frown, and I went to ask a librarian who was sitting at the book return counter.

"Have you seen a blonde guy," I asked, raising my hand so that it was level with my jaw, "about this tall, and with glasses?"

She looked up from typing, and flicked her eyes away to focus on an unknown location, thinking. "I think so," she said after a couple of seconds, "but I can't remember if he left or not. …Have you looked at our new display? This month is banned books month, you should check it out, we're giving away popcorn if you withdraw one."

I paused, and leaned forward onto the counter, resting my elbows against the surface. "Do you have the Kama Sutra?"

Saying stuff like that is always fun, especially to strangers. Their initial reaction is confusion, not knowing who I am or how I would get the courage to say such things, and then later moving on to embarrassment or sluttiness. I do have a nice face, after all.

"I um-" she started, laughing slightly but still looking uncomfortable, "don't think we have that."

"Well if you do," I said, standing back up straight, "give me a call." That left her shocked, I knew it, even though I had turned my back on her.

Back to the task of finding Butters, I decided to search through the isles of bookshelves. Although he was dedicated and followed rules easily, he did get sidetracked, and might have started browsing.

Nonfiction, no Butters. Fiction A-N, no Butters. Paperbacks, no Butters. CD shelves, no Butters. Normally I wouldn't have cared, and I wasn't really in that much of a rush anyway, but the fact that he said he would have been there early made me annoyed. I retraced my steps back to the computer lab, looking for his light blonde hair. There were a couple of people browsing Facebook, but Butters wasn't at a computer. So where then- Oh.

He was sitting at a table in the very back corner of the room, next to the bathrooms and the magazines, sitting straight up and looking somewhat uncomfortable. I must have missed him sitting there, I wouldn't have thought that he'd choose somewhere so dark to wait. Making my way over to him, I decided to take a longer route. I didn't like walking up to people and having them watch me the entire time.

"Hey Butters," I said, as I walked out from behind a bookshelf, "how are you?"

He looked up, surprised, as if he'd forgotten that we were going to meet up. "O-Oh hi Kenny, I guess I'm pretty good, it sure is cold out today, w-why I thought it was gonna snow!"

"Yeah, I guess winter just came early this year. You should be used to it, though, we used to live in South Park."

"I guess you're right, Kenny, you're always thinking about these things more than I do." He looked away, fiddling with his glasses.

"Are you ready to go, then?" I wasn't really one much for small talk, or talking in general. When I had something to say, I said it. And besides, we would have plenty of time to talk later.

Butters was silent, so I answered for him. "Okay, let's go."

Turning to walk away, I paused to look behind me to see if he was coming. He wasn't, though, and I stopped, turning back around to face him. He looked uncomfortable again, squirming in his seat, like something was up his ass (something would be, eventually).

"Dude, what's wrong." I frowned.

He was slow to talk, but he did so anyway, rubbing his knuckles together and speaking softly. "W-Well you told me to put on that ol' uniform, b-but that was a couple of years ago and i-it doesn't really fit right."

So that was why he was trying to hide. I smiled. I'd completely forgotten about what I'd requested of him, not really expecting him to go along with it and just brush it off as some sort of weird joke, but I was wrong just like the first time I requested something from him. But really, I hadn't noticed the outfit. It had a dark blue blazer with a red tie and a piece of plaid on the breast pocket, along with matching slacks and dress shoes. I could see that the pants and sleeves were too short, though, and I bit back a groan imagining a younger Butters in it (he'd gone to Catholic school for a couple of months when his parents had been convinced some of the other students were a bad influence (Cartman)).

I motioned for him to stand up. "If anyone makes fun of you," he stood and walked up next to me as I put my arm around his shoulder, making him tense just a bit, "I'll punch them in the face."

He relaxed. "Thanks, Kenny."

Even though he seemed compliant and less embarrassed with my protection, I still used my arm to guide and gently push him to keep him walking. Having my hands on him was nice, since I hadn't physically touched him for around a year, let alone since I started fantasizing about fucking him with a vibrator so hard until he couldn't walk (and then replacing it with my dick and his mouth so he couldn't talk, either).

The thoughts made me antsy, and I would have given everything to just walk him back to my car and screw his brains out without any weird fetishes at all. Instead, though, we left the library and I walked him back to my car without pounding into his ass at all.

"So where are we goin', anyway, Kenny?" I opened the door for him and he hopped in, buckling his seatbelt as I followed suit and looked behind me to back out of the parking space.

"You'll see," I said, distracted as I shifted gears back into D.

Butters was quiet for a little while, before his next question arose and I nearly groaned at my stupidity. "S-So why did you want me to dress like this, then, Kenny? Are we goin to a costume party or somethin?" He sounded generally curious, having no idea that his outfit was going to give me fantasies to masturbate to for weeks to come.

I didn't know why I'd been so stupid, though. I hadn't even thought of a lie to tell him. It's not like I could just say 'because I like to imagine myself pulling your pants down and fucking you while I grab your tie and pull it so hard that you choke and clench down on me and make my orgasm even better then it would have been before, while you scream that you'd been a naughty boy', because I couldn't, even though that was the truth.

"Oh, well-" I put on my blinker, switching lanes to get passed the turnpike and take the long way around. I still considered myself poor (what college student doesn't?) "Because I'm taking you shopping for better clothes." Well, that was stupid. Butters dressed well, in any case, and now I'd have to blow more money then I'd intended.

He didn't seem to take offense to it, though, and looked delighted. "Oh-! That- sounds like fun! See I just got my hair cut and all and I thought that I looked sort of silly with all these sweaters my grandma keeps giving me so I wanted to go shopping anyway and get some better shirts. I mean I love my grandma and all but sometimes you just gotta be firm with 'em and say 'grandma, you're the best grandma but I really don't-"

And it went on like that for a while. Unlike me, Butters liked to talk. It would have annoyed me, but Butters was a good listener as well, and didn't prioritize his stories above anyone else's, so I let him babble on. Besides, it felt more comfortable than sitting in silence with only the radio between us.

Apparently from Butters' story, he had motivated himself from being a mediocre student into succeeding wonderfully in our senior year of High School to get into college. I hadn't known, since I never really gave a fuck about him at all. His parents were always down his back, and he was tired of the nagging (if I didn't know who his parents were, I would have assumed they were asian), so he finally decided that enough was enough and buckled down. Butters wasn't that smart, but he wasn't necessarily dumb. I could see him memorizing facts and studying and doing well on a test, but forgetting everything after it was over. It wasn't that hard to imagine.

I, however, got my GED, but just barely. I was more of a hands-on guy, and I wasn't exactly sure how I got into the University of Denver, but I wasn't going to look into it. Maybe it was my test scores, since I did one really hard week of intense studying, but I didn't know and didn't care. I just got in, and I would stay in. I wasn't going to fuck up like my parents.

Butters continued talking, and I agreed with some points and offered short replies, but mainly listened, and that was being generous. I was more concentrated on driving and watching Butters move out of the corner of my eye. It was exhilarating, really. People are just people until you're _aware_ of it, aware that they're sexual beings and that you have the ability to sleep with them, if you are good at getting it. And Butters was a person.

I hadn't necessarily thought of him as sexual before I'd began fantasizing about him, but there was no reason he wouldn't be. I mean, Cartman put his dick in his mouth and we'd dressed him up as a girl on multiple occasions, not to mention sacrificing to the NAMBLA guys as a victim, but still. That was just what we did, it was just _Butters._ But I am older, now, and I realized that Butters probably jerked off on a regular basis. He probably touched himself. Alone, he probably took off his clothes and laid back against his bed, closing his eyes as he wrapped his hand around his limp penis and masturbated to whatever it was that he liked. And that was the boy that sat ten inches away from me.

Clothes are a guilded truth, because they don't fool anybody. I've slept with a lot of people, I've watched a lot of porn, and I know what a naked body looks like, of both genders. Every person on the street, every shopkeeper and skateboarding teenager and businessman- I know them underneath their clothes. I know exactly what they look like, even though they try to hide it. I know this especially well, know the feeling of hiding behind a hood and clothes, but that doesn't change the facts. And the fact was that only a thin layer of clothes was separating me and Butters. Just a few stitches of cotton and some other crappy material were all that kept me from seeing his exposed skin. But maybe that was good, I had to stay composed after all.

My eyes flicked back to the road after I realized that they lingered on his mouth while he talked, frowning slightly. I wanted sex, and boy was I anticipating it. Butters had no idea, though, and that thought was somewhat arousing. I prefer consensual, but- well, so long as no one got _hurt-_

"What do you think, Kenny?" He had turned to face me, big eyes and all.

"I don't know," I mumbled, shifting lower in my seat, "you should major in what you like to do so long as you're not shit poor and living next to the railroad tracks." Maybe that was resentment in my voice.

I considered myself to be an alpha male, but had a bad habit of mumbling. It was made up with my behavior, though, and it never seemed to deter Butters. He understood what I said, in any case. "I guess you're right, I just don't wanna do nothing to upset my parents, is all."

"Why would you care about your parents, Butters, you left South Park. They're not in charge of your life anymore, you don't have to constantly try and please them. If you want to be a writer, be a writer."

"I-I guess…" He looked to the side and was quiet. That was fine, though, because I'd left the outerbelt of Denver to catch a road into the heart of a shopping district I knew well. Like I said, I didn't shop much, and the only reason I knew it well was because it was the only one I knew of at all.

Trying to find a place to park in the city is hard, and we probably spent a good half an hour looking for a spot before just giving up and paying to park in a lot. Ten bucks my ass, I hadn't meant to spend that much money just to get into Butters' pants, but I suppose I was only pissed because I wasn't currently fucking him then. The second that I got him on his knees, the ten dollars would probably seem worth it. Definitely, definitely worth it, as Butters smiled at me, looking excited as we paid the fee and left the lot, beginning to walk down the street.

The shopping district was a little ways into the city, so we took the subway system. The subway confused me. I was just a redneck mountain kid, but managed to figure it out. The ride wasn't that long, and had intermittent stops, so I sat down and Butters followed suit, settling down next to me. I glanced over at him, the world feeling like it was moving fast as I wasn't moving at all, just staring at his hands and legs and imagining what I wanted to do with him. I wanted to do so much to him…

We went to a couple of different stores, but it seemed as though there was no medium between big corporate retailers such as Abercrombie and small in-the-wall hipster shops. Butters didn't seem to mind, though (or even notice the difference) and went into both. Honestly, I didn't know how I knew the difference myself, and felt somewhat embarrassed that I did. Mainly, though, I watched him shop, going to store to store and showing me different clothes that he liked. Butters was such a fag.

It was to be expected, though. Everyone had always known that he was gay, there was no tearful 'coming out', and he never explicitly said it, everyone just _knew._ It just _was_, it was just _Butters._ He was so happy and chipper and peppy, but not overly flamboyant and didn't make floppy hand motions or talk with a lisp (hey, everyone stereotypes). But all of this made it easier for me, because this way, at least I didn't have to worry about trying to convince a straight man that _everyone_ was a little bit gay to get him to sleep with me.

"-Kenny," Butters turned his head to look at me as I flipped through shirts on a clothing rack, "I like this, I think I'm going to get it." He held up a blue dufflecoat with white buttons and tailored seems. I blinked. Butters was thin and didn't have wide shoulders. It would look pissgay on him. I smiled, though.

"Oh, I like that, that's a good choice." Lies.

Butters seemed to like my words, though, and gave me a smile in return. "You think? Me too, it looks all warm and stuff and now I don't gotta worry about gettin a coat no more."

I followed him up to the cash register, glad that he'd finally picked something out so that we could move on from shopping. It wasn't that exciting. Taking the coat out of his hands, I handed it to the woman standing behind the register. I'd thought that in retail, you were supposed to make conversation with the customer, but she said nothing, and just rang up the coat.

"48.95" was all she said.

Reaching into my back pocket for my wallet, I opened it, and Butters looked confused.

"W-Wait Kenny, I didn't say you had to buy it! W-Why I got all my money right here!" He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash (mainly ones).

It was my turn to be confused. "I told you I was taking you shopping, why would you think I'd bring you here and then have you buy your own stuff when it was my idea and I didn't warn you?"

"W-Well it's expensive and you're poor and all, s-so I didn't mean to-"

I slapped the money down onto the counter, and said nothing. The sound shocked both Butters and the employee. An awkward silence stretched, and she nervously took my three twenties, and handed me back the change.

"…Do you want a bag." Her voice was quiet and flat.

"Please."

She folded the coat and handed it to me as I pulled my hood up and tightened it. Pocketing my change, I grabbed the purchase and turned, leaving the store. A little bell rang on my way out, and I heard it again as Butters followed me. I said nothing.

"W-Wait Kenny!" He sounded upset.

I stopped walking, and turned to face him. Still, I said nothing, just watched as he fretted, trying to figure out what to do and say.

"I-" He faltered and looked away, not able to keep eye contact. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelins or nothin…"

It shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. Being emotional wasn't a good way to portray dominance, but I was angry, not sulking, and that was fine. I didn't reply for a good fifteen seconds.

"I'm not poor," I said, pulling down my hood, and gripped the bag in my hands harder, "my parents are poor. I _was_ poor, but it wasn't my_ choice. _I do have a choice, now, I have a job and I have money. I'm not poor. I can afford a coat for you. Got it?"

My words must have hurt him and made him feel guilty, because his eyebrows furrowed and he nodded, rubbing his knuckles together. I frowned. He should have known that I would be touchy about that subject, but everyone had always called me the poor boy, he probably thought I was used to it. In any case, getting mad and yelling at Butters wasn't a good idea when I was trying to get on his good side, so I held out my hand that was holding the bag.

"Here," I said, offering it to him, "take it. It's a nice coat, you should enjoy it."

He paused, but eventually took the bag from me, our hands brushing. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, you didn't know." That was true.

"I-I jus' don't want you to be mad, I thought we were having a nice time…" He still looked worried, so I sighed, but something inside of me felt good. He got yelled at, but still wanted to be friends. Butters hadn't minded, and put the blame on himself; I was still in charge.

"I'm not mad, Butters. We are having a nice time, I like being here with you."

If my words had hurt him before, these turned him around 360 degrees with an added 180, and he looked absolutely flattered. He stammered and rubbed his knuckles together again, looking as if he was trying to hide a smile, but if he was, it didn't work.

"T-That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, Kenny." He looked at me, then, and held my gaze.

I smiled, but inside I felt guilty, his reply making something within me give a harsh twang. "You deserve it." Lies.

"How do I make it up to you?" He shifted the coat in his hands, continuing to look up at me.

My mind instantly ran wild, and that was wrong wrong wrong. Today was just supposed to secure myself as a friend, but instead my mouth was faster than my thoughts as I screamed at myself to not say it, to just not say "Kiss me."

Butters blinked. He was gay, I knew he was gay. I knew he thought I was attractive. I knew all of this, I just got too excited, got too impatient. It would be too fast for Butters, we had just met a week ago.

…Or not. Butters, who had been starved for attention his entire life, wanted a friend. And I was showing an interest in him. I was his friend. I liked _being with him _(he thought). I couldn't be thrown away. I called the shots, and Butters followed. And besides, he'd lived in South Park where everyone (pretended to be) was straight; he most likely had never been acknowledged in a sexual way.

He clenched the coat in his hands before hesitantly closing the gap between us, and I watched with an absolute _want_ and _need_ as he tilted his head up and pressed his lips against mine.

I didn't embrace him, didn't hold him, just kissed him. Alone on a street in Denver in the freezing cold, Butters kissed me. It felt good. It was like I was famished, and this was reviving me. I hadn't kissed in a while, it was too intimate. Sex was not about intimacy, it was about fulfilling a physical need, not an emotional one. But kissing was emotional, and as I kissed him back, I secured myself into his life, and I was sure. I was sure, then, as he pressed his lips against mine, that I wanted this, that I _needed_ this, and I would do whatever it took to get him to play my games. I wanted him, I wanted him so bad, wanted to throw him down and tie him up and whisper horrible, dirty things to him.

But I didn't. Not even tongue. Just kissing. Instead, I reached up and placed my hands onto his arms as he broke away for air. He looked surprisingly calm, as I had expected him to blush madly, and I smiled.

"Now you don't owe me for the coat."

The blushing came, then, and he turned his head to the side. "I didn't know that you were like that." No stuttering. Another surprise.

"There's a lot of things about me that people didn't know." But the real answer would have been 'well I guess Stan and Cartman just didn't blab about all of the gay sex we had'. But this was Butters, and Butters needed attention to be able to cling to me. He had to be special, not just another face.

We didn't speak much after that, but it wasn't an awkward silence, we were just satisfied. I knew I was, and when we finally made our way back to my car and I drove Butters to his dorm (which looked like horrible preppy shit), I asked him for another go.

"I'll be calling you. Feel free to wear your coat when I do, Butters."

He stood outside my car, and looked in at me through the rolled down window. The cold air rustled his short blonde hair, and I just knew he was blushing.

"I-I will. Have a nice night, Kenny."

And I did, because the second I got home, I pulled off my pants and jacked off, imagining Butters. Butters, Butters, Butters. Butters in his uniform, Butters in panties and a skirt, Butters begging me to take the cock-ring off of him as I fucked him for forever and ever and ever as I kissed him so hard.

I didn't need to know what he looked like underneath his clothes at that point, because I would soon enough, and that was good for me.

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**Review and we'll actually get to the sexually deviant stuff.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the late review. Actually, this is usually how long it takes me to update, I JUST REALLY FUCKING LOVE WRITING THIS. Seriously, it's fun as shit. Usually I'm into ravishment fantasy stuff, but damn. Just- just damn. Does this mean I've matured?

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Tired. I was so tired. My body hurt and my legs ached. There was a knot in my back that wouldn't pop no matter what way I stretched. It made me exasperated, because no matter how I moved, something ached. Pain always stretches out time, making it seem longer. I would know, I've experienced every type of pain imaginable. And let me tell you, if you haven't experienced falling on top of a large spike, you don't know what agony is.

It's hot, really hot. Not exactly in temperature, but in feeling. Blood rushes to your head and out of your body, raising your heart beat, exerting energy to stay alive. Even the tiniest of bruises and cuts are like this, even if they are on a smaller scale. I guess this is something that I really understand, if I don't know anything else. Talk to me about pain, and I'll be your biggest sympathizer.

But maybe I'm overreacting. Okay, I'm overreacting. Because I've experienced death, and this is definitely not death. This is just the ache after a day of strenuous exercise. Not that I'm not active, but I usually don't lift furniture all day, which was what I had done the day before. Eight dollars an hour to help a coworker move? Sure, I'm your man. Eight dollars an hour to move fifty tons of _crap_ out of a house and up the stairs and down the stairs and through hallways and doorways and- well, I'm still your man. Eight dollars, eight dollars, that's what I told myself. And maybe it was worth it, but god_damn_ it makes you sore afterwards.

And it's never the same day, it's always only after you sleep. You sleep, feel wonderful after the exercise, and then wake up pissy and achy. Which is exactly what happened to me.

There's that odd point between waking up and becoming conscious when you're still slightly within dream world, and not quite all together. I could tell that my legs were sore, but other than that, I just stared at my blinds as I woke up. I was still tired, but I was antsy. I couldn't sleep anymore, something told me to wake up. And yet, I continued to lie in bed.

I rented out apartment, sixth floor, overlooking a shitty commercial district. I could see cars driving by, driving into the Walmart parking lot, pulling into the strip mall, getting out to eat in at Steak and Shake. It made me feel strange, a sort of cross between apathy and homesickness. They were petty, all so petty, but it was easy to say that from a distance, just looking at the cars. I knew that if I'd been acquaintances with the owners of those cars, it would be different. But I wasn't, and I traced my finger over the corner of my bedside table, looking down at them.

Denver wasn't South Park. I'd been living here a couple of months, but I wasn't used to it, not really. I was used to main street, Tom's Rhinoplasty, the Country Kitchen Buffet, and- well, that was about it. South Park was quiet and bland. Denver was loud and bland. Denver didn't have a Stark's Pond or a City Wok, but it had everything else.

People told me that I'd grown up missing out on life, that my small little hick town wasn't what the rest of the world was like. And that was true. But the rest of the world wasn't like South Park, and I guessed I missed it.

I stared out my window. Someone ran a red light. A woman dropped her grocery bags. Everyday life. No matter what city, it was always every day life all over again. Boring, so boring. I wouldn't understand why Craig liked it. Maybe I didn't like Denver all that much, but maybe I didn't like South Park that much more, either. It was like there was no in between. Or maybe I just hadn't lived there yet.

9:54 a.m.

Sighing, I turned onto my back and looked up at the ceiling. White ceiling, nothing special. But fuck, I wasn't an interior designer. I grew up as white trash; any place that didn't have cockroaches and month old empty beer cans laying around was fine to me. And besides, the only people who would see it besides me would be the people I brought home.

There hadn't been many. A couple here and there when I first moved in and started out with high expectations, but they slowly dwindled down. The most I had to remember of those weeks was a pair of underwear that some chick had accidentally forgotten. I didn't really have to think about it before saving them, hiding them in the back of my pants drawer, sometimes taking them out to masturbate with, but that was all. My apartment was fine.

Butters wouldn't care, anyway. I smiled.

It was true, though. He would notice, but not care. His home had always been neat and clean, since he'd done the cleaning (in fear of being grounded), but he wouldn't care about anyone else's home. It was just Butters, and that's what Butters did. Butters didn't judge.

No, no judging at all. He wouldn't care that I had a couple of dishes in the sink or some Chinese carry-out from last night still sitting out on the table. He might say 'O-Oh, can I help ya' out?' and fuss around, but not really care, just try to be helpful. And I could almost imagine him doing it. He would hover around in the doorway, smiling, looking slightly nervous and uncomfortable, trying to please. Maybe I would say yes, or maybe I would tell him to not worry about it, that wasn't important. I was thinking about him, not me.

Maybe I'd say yes, though, and Butters would brighten up and rush to clean for me. He would be good at it, and everything would be sparkling and organized in minutes. 'Do you need help with that?' he would say, because I'd feel bad for him working while I sat there and would have began throwing clothes into the laundry room. My answer this time would always be yes, and Butters would shift awkwardly over to me, testing the ground even though he knew I wouldn't bite, and start picking up clothes.

I looked around my room. There were a lot of clothes. Lots and lots of clothes and mess, and Butters would try to do too much at once. He would pick up too many shirts at once while trying to fix my lamp, and would trip or do some other clutzy thing. 'Let me help you up', I would say, and Butters would smile and blush and be so _nervous_. So unsure of himself. He needed me to tell him he was good.

'T-Thanks, Kenny'. But I wouldn't let go of his hand. 'D-Do you need somthin' else?' So confused and naïve and _Butters_.

'Yeah.'

He wouldn't make any noise, but I knew I could hear him stammering in his head as I put his hand on the front of my pants. His face would be so red, so incredibly sexy since this wouldn't have been a new thing by then. He would be still for a while, heat radiating off of his face as I looked down at him before he would finally move his hand into a position that fit around my dick.

Yeah, yeah that would feel good, just like that, just like how I was doing now.

'I thought you wanted to help.'

'I-I do.' His voice would be quiet.

It was just a small reminder, to tell him to stop _fantasizing_, that it was actually happening and I wanted _him_. That would make him move fast, too fast, and he'd awkwardly unbutton and pull down my pants, scratching me a bit, but I wouldn't care, because his hand was around my erection in less than ten seconds.

Shit, it would have to feel good, so good. I've gotten plenty of blowjobs, but it was just always better than before. My breath hitched as I moved my hand down my pants to start stroking myself, just like Butters would. He would be mediocre at it. The heart was there, but he was too excited to do a great job.

He'd mumble under his breath as he kneeled down and grabbed at me, too scared to kiss and lick as if it'd be an intimate statement (if he did have feelings for me, he wouldn't say so, he didn't want to lose me), but just pump me to full hardness before taking me in his mouth. He'd try to go deep throat too soon and too fast, and gag, and I would grab his hair and pull him back.

'Calm down'

And oh I would see that he could just _die_ from embarrassment. But he'd listen. Butters was good at listening. Butters would nod his head and go slower, taking in the head of my penis first, licking around it before moving his head back and forth slowly, taking in more of the length as he went. He would feel awkward with his hands not moving, so he would set them in his lap. Or maybe it was just an excuse to rub himself through his jeans, because I knew I would see him getting turned on too.

He would shift his thighs together, resting his hand suspiciously close to his crotch while he blew me, embarrassed to be aroused, as if he knew I couldn't tell. My earlier words would have worn off, and also from his own erection, he would become increasingly needy, bobbing his head quicker and sucking harder and lightly grabbing the back of my thigh. Tentative. He wanted it. He wanted it so bad.

My hand would be back in his hair again, pulling him away. Spit dripped down his chin, his eyes slightly hazy, confused, and I would kick his hand away and press my bare foot lightly against his jeans.

'You like this,' I'd say, gently moving my toes over the fabric that separated our skin, 'you fucking _love_ this. You wanted to come over here so bad, you wanted to suck my cock so bad. 'I just want to clean, Kenny'. That's bullshit. You're not innocent and you know it, you're not fooling anyone, you're not fooling me.' I'd emphasize by pressing my foot down. He'd gasp and tremble, looking up at me, needy and embarrassed and nervous and shy. My dick would be throbbing just as it was now, but this was fun, and I'd keep talking. 'I bet you think about it a lot, don't you. Don't tell me you don't. You want me to fuck you so bad that you get butterflies in your stomach from thinking about it. You want me to cum all over you, you fucking little whore. Do you want me to bend you over the coffee table and screw you hard? To ram my cock into you over and over and over?' I'd continue to push my toes against his erection, and he wouldn't be able to take it anymore.

'Yes!' He'd say a little too loudly, that same worried expression on his face. 'Yes, Kenny! I-I want you to all of that and make me go crazy! H-Hamburgers, _fuck me!_'

No self restraint, Butters would never have self restraint. I graoned, my eyebrows furrowing as I jerked on my dick, moving my hand faster as I imagined throwing Butters down onto my bed, right where I was laying now. I didn't even need vibrators or a gag, I would do him hard and natural with nothing special at all, because Butters was my goddamn kink, Butters was my fetish because he would do whatever I wanted.

I would grip his thigh and move it so high up and hold his head down as I thrust into him _hard_ and _forceful_ and my hand was moving so fast and I think I felt precum but I couldn't tell because I was just thinking about how fucking tight he would be and how good it'd feel to pound into him and hear him making _noises_, begging noises of 'Kenny!' and 'S-Shit!' and I'd grab his shoulders and lean over so that my weight was on my knees and use all of it as momentum to screw his brains out and _fuck_ I couldn't see straight I was cumming cumming oh fuck it was hot my legs hurt my hand ached and Butters was moaning and _shit!_

My hips spasmed as I squeezed my eyes shut, moving my hand fast as I came. It was long and drawn out and everything felt like hot pressure. Building building building and then I hit climax. My breath caught in my throat and my muscles clenched up, jizz dripping onto my hand. Oh fuck, Butters. Fuck.

I panted and relaxed against the sheets when I finished, the feeling of strenuous activity washing over me. It felt good. I didn't feel sore. It just felt good.

10:15 a.m.

I wanted to see Butters.

* * *

He was wearing the coat I bought him and smiling in the cold.

"H-Hi Kenny, I didn't know if you were gonna call me when ya' got here so I've been waitin." His glasses made his eyes look bigger.

"Why would you think I wouldn't call and make you stand outside like that? You must be so cold." I smiled back and opened the door for him. He hopped in and shivered, rubbing his hands together. "Here."

I grabbed his hands and took off his gloves, pulling his hands up next to the heating. I could hear him almost stop breathing. He didn't look at me. "Sure i-is cold," he murmured, and I temporarily forgot who the one wearing the hood was (which reminded me to pull it down).

"Just wait until the trick-or-treaters go out in this, they're going to freeze their Frankenstein asses off."

He laughed and buckled his seatbelt. "W-Why it sure is bad that Halloween will be so cold and all this year for all those little kids and stuff."

"It was always cold when we went trick-or-treating, there was snow on the ground. They can handle it. …You don't mind if I pick up some stuff from the gas station before we go to my place, do you?"

Because yeah, he was coming over. It wasn't a big deal. I was his friend. Friends went to each other's houses all the time. We did when we were kids, and it was just the same now. The only difference was that now, the only reason I wanted him over was so that I could have him sit on my bed where I had just masturbated thinking about him a couple hours earlier.

"Why of course not Kenny, you get whatever you need!" He smiled, and then we talked. Or, at least, he talked.

Whoever says that women talk more than men are ignorant, because all of the boys I've known in my lifetime have never shut up. Whether it was my father ranting about the economy or Cartman being racist, to Kyle bitching about Cartman and Stan trying to persuade me to join his cause, I was the only male I'd ever known to not love to hear my own voice. Except for maybe Craig, but Craig was always the exception, and Butters was not.

Butters talked about school and people and movies and it always went back to his parents. I offered little in return, but that was just me. That was just Kenny, Kenny didn't talk much, Kenny listened. Butters was lonely.

"Hey man," I said, pulling up to a Seven Eleven, "I'll be right back, I just gotta grab some stuff." He nodded and sat back when I turned off the car and stepped out.

The bell ringed as I opened the door. A woman was buying some gum and beef jerky at the register, and I put up my hood. I was used to these sorts of trashy places and people, and I wanted to distance myself from them. Grabbing a bag of chips and cereal, I went up to the register and set the items down.

"6.99, would you like a bag?" The man behind the counter had a mustache, the kind that looked like it was sweeping when moved back and forth. I shook my head and pointed to a pack of Camels behind him. They keep all the good stuff at a gas station behind the counter because of people like me. He grabbed the pack and rang it up. "10.15. Bag?" I nodded my head and moved to get my wallet, but paused.

"This too, sorry."

"15.39, now. Anything _else_?" You never expect people to be rude in retail, but then again, a Seven Eleven wasn't exactly retail. I shook my head no and handed him a twenty. He counted my change back, and I stuck the cigarettes and condoms into my back pocket, carrying the chips and cereal out with me.

The wind rustled my hair even underneath my hood, and I made a weird sort of exhale sound when I hopped back into my car. Butters took the chips and cereal, and held them in his lap.

"I didn't know you liked Raisin Bran."

"I don't."

And nothing else was said.

* * *

I opened the door for Butters when we walked into my apartment complex, waited for him to enter the elevator first, and unlocked the door and held it open for him when we finally made it to room 613. And he acted exactly as I thought he would.

He hovered near the front door when we both walked in and I moved to put away my small amount of groceries. I picked up some crap and threw it in a corner, having not bothered to clean much before I decided I wanted him over, and Butters continued to stand with his coat and shoes on in front of the door. I looked over at him while bending down to pick up a shirt.

"You can take off your coat and stuff you know, it's just a shitty apartment, don't be so nervous."

Butters rubbed his knuckles together, embarrassed by bringing attention to himself. He shifted a bit before cautiously unbuttoning his coat, holding it awkwardly, as if I literally meant for him to just take off his coat and to not get comfortable.

"Look," I said, straightening up as I finished throwing away pop bottles into the garbage, "I'm not a rule sort of guy, but the rule is that you've gotta calm down." Although I said it with a warm tone and face, Butters laughed nervously, so I took his coat from him and set it on the kitchen table. "Are you hungry?"

"N-No." He finally took the hint and took off his shoes. The process was somehow fascinating and sexual, and I watched as he looked down at his feet, stepping out of each shoe as he pulled it off. Butters.

"-Oh. Well, then." I shook my head slightly and flopped down on the couch, scooting some magazines and pillows out of the way so that I purposefully made only enough room for him to sit right next to me. "Do you want to play Gamesphere?"

His eyes widened. "Y-You have one?"

"Yeah, we only got one like a year after everyone stopped playing them, so I just kept it all this time. It's still fun, wanna play?" And while that was the truth, I didn't mention we only bought it so long after it came out because we were poor as shit and my dad had become addicted to Heroin Hero.

Butters nodded enthusiastically, and didn't seem to debate on whether or not he should sit next to me, and just sat down, our legs touching as we engaged in pixilated battle. He got really into it and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he held his breath and mashed the keys down, yelping when he lost a life, the light from the screen reflecting off of his glasses. Even though I couldn't manage to stay alive more than a couple of days when I was younger, I was always good at video games, and after a couple of rounds of sniping down Butters character, it was clear that I would remain the victor.

We switched games a couple of times, even daring to go and play one as old as Chinpokomon, before getting bored. Having calmed down, Butters opened up and became more relaxed, helping himself to the chips that I had bought earlier. We watched TV and talked and did nothing in particular, because I hadn't had anyone over in a while, and I wanted Butters. I wanted him in my bed, and if conversation was what it took, I'd do it, even if we mostly just played games.

"You shouldn't smoke, Kenny." I had gotten Butters to sit on my bed by bringing out my old yearbook and motioning him over. I had gotten up, but he had just decided to stay, and a cigarette just made everything even better. "W-Why you aint gonna get nothin from it but burnt up lungs."

"Have you ever smoked?" I asked, and offered a cigarette to him, but he straightened up and shook his head. "Then you don't know what I get from it. Besides, I pay for it, no matter what the cost. Quality over quantity. It makes life better, even if I die a couple of days earlier, it was life well lived instead of mediocre and drawn out. I bet you do something that's not that healthy, too."

Butters looked away at the all, his eyes distant, and I knew he was thinking about what it was that was his addiction. I didn't have the slightest clue, but bringing it up made me want to know. I didn't push it, though, and sat up from my reclining position on the couch. "It's two, I should probably take you home. You have work tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah but it's nothin important or anythin like that." He wanted to stay. But it was dangerous. I couldn't have him staying over longer. I didn't buy the condoms for that night.

"No dude, I don't want you getting fired. Besides, I'm sure you're busy." I stood, sealing the situation, and he looked a bit sad as he stood as well. Stretching, I finally popped the joint that had been aching all day. He made a face, but didn't comment, and picked up his coat.

We road the elevator down and walked out to my car, the radio playing in place of words. I couldn't tell if Butters was disappointed or just tired. A bit of both, most likely. He looked out the window, and when I glanced over at him, I could see his face in the reflection.

He was so much older now. We both were. He had matured, but was not mature, and neither was I. We might have been adults, but we were nowhere near what that really meant. Kids, we were just kids. We were in the fourth grade and were playing Mysterion and Professor Chaos. We made stupid jokes and played with toy cars in front of South Park mall while our parents got into trouble inside. We were Kenny and Butters. I had never realized it before.

It made my chest hurt.

I wasn't emotional, I never had been, but I was suddenly struck with nostalgia and fear. All my life I had wanted to grow up and get away from my home life, out of South Park, make a new name for myself. But that meant throwing everything away, and going out on my own. There wasn't a mom that I could run back to or a Stan and Kyle and Cartman that I could sleep over with when times were rough. No more group assignments or recess or anything. I wasn't a kid, but I wasn't an adult. I was both. Stuck. Everything changed. _Butters_ had changed.

Butters was South Park and he had changed. He was older and smarter and more aware. He lived in a dorm and went to _college_. And I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to fuck him so bad. And maybe I missed South Park, but I couldn't go back, not even if I enlisted the help of two Trekkies to make me a time machine, I couldn't go back. It would never be third grade again, or fourth grade, or even high school. But here was Butters.

"T-Thank you, it was fun, Kenny. You're a really nice guy." He'd unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car. I got out with him and closed the door, walking him up to the front steps. "And you're right," he said as he unlocked the door, "I have a bad addiction too. Quality over quantity, but you have to pick somethin that doesn't hurt you back, because then you're just losin no matter what. Please don't smoke no more." And he hugged me and I hugged him back and it wasn't even sexual.

* * *

**Review if you were expecting sex and then wound up getting angst. Yes, I am a cocktease~ (don't worry, the main plot is still sex and only sex)**


	5. Chapter 5

**So I've done a couple of illustrations and doodles for Clean Living on my Tumblr, if you're interested. And all around porn, including Bunny. CHECK IT OUT yo yo yo.

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Everyone has nostalgia, but I've always liked to imagine that mine is just that one bit sweeter. Sometimes it's a smell or taste that reminds you of childhood, better times. I can take a bite of a granny smith apple and instantly go back to the time that the old crew and I screwed around with Korn on Halloween, but am reminded of when I wound up getting killed shortly after by miniature Snowspeeders. Then again, most of my earlier memories end like that, with death. Which is why I guess that my memories are that much better, because I can appreciate what true happiness is.

When you ask most people about their earliest good memories, they think about birthdays and parties and Santa, because they don't know any better. Because to them, those _are_ their happiest memories. They haven't been able to experience being cut in half by a chainsaw, or crushed by a car, or be torn apart, so everything dull thing to them is worthy of remembering. It's not the same with me, though. I appreciate the times I had when I was younger, when I was laughing and playing with my friends. My memories don't need streamers and presents to be nostalgic. Partially because I didn't have streamers or presents, anyway. I was poor.

I don't think I could pick a favorite memory, but some come close. Most all of them have to do with Kyle and Stan, and sometimes Cartman (but that's pushing it). It's just always been Kyle, Stan, (Cartman) and me, so I guess it's natural that when I think back fondly, I remember them. It's only been about a year since I saw them last, anyway. Before that, every memory I have is of us playing and getting into trouble. Being kids.

When I remember my friends, I can't imagine myself as an adult. The majority of my life has been as a child, I just can't fully grasp the idea of myself paying rent, now, even though I do it every month. I've just always been nine year old Kenny with his parka pulled up so close around his face. Kenny and Stan, normal Stan, who had happy blue eyes and black hair and a red poof ball hat that he eventually got rid of. Kenny and Kyle, who was constantly angry and stubborn, but kind, and couldn't stop wearing clothes that clashed with his bright red hair that he often tried to hide. Kenny and Cartman, who was just- Cartman, a jackass since he was born until he would die, probably by overeating or denying his attraction to men.

Kenny, Stan, Kyle, and Cartman. Those are my memories. Of course, there are other people and events pushed in there too, but mainly it's just us guys. It's always been just us guys. Living along feels strange, when I think about it, compared to my memories. Saying goodbye didn't hurt, though, because it was in the there and then. A couple months later, the passing of time, is what makes it hurt. Then again, that's what nostalgia is. It hurts. I guess I'm used to hurting, though.

Maybe I'm melodramatic, but I don't like to think of myself that way. I guess I just- understand things better than most people do, I have more time to think. With my hood up, it's easy to be quiet and just observe what happens around me, as if I'm watching a scene in a play unfold. Until I'm stabbed, that is. Then I'm reminded that I'm actually a character.

It hasn't happened recently, though, dying. Maybe my friends were bad luck, or South Park itself, but ever since I moved I've become much less prone to death. Not that I miss it at all, especially not the part about being reborn, which in turn seemed to stop around age sixteen. No idea why, and frankly, I don't care. I'm done with prophecies and shit, whatever happens, happens. If there're no more deaths for me, fine, good, I suppose they can just become nostalgic too. The pain of nostalgia is much more favorable than the pain of having my head explode.

But even though nostalgia is somewhat painful, I'm not sure if I'd want to go back in time and relive all of my memories. That was pretty clear when we tried making the time machine. Then again, life is uncertain, and it might be an adventure to go forward, but it's absolutely terrifying. At least in South Park, you know something horrible is going to happen. In the outside world, you never know.

Which is strangely coincidental that my mind wandered to nostalgia and horror while I searched through some old clothes for a Halloween party. _Specific_ old clothes. It was a Halloween party, but I didn't care enough to buy a costume. Everyone else wouldn't know that, though, and I smiled when I found the shirt and pants that I had been looking for.

Like I said before, it'd been a while since I last died. Back in High School, anyway. For whatever reason after I'd gotten my head and arms chopped off by a mistake in the art room, someone decided to save my clothes and I'd kept the bloody rags ever since. Just a plain white tee and some jeans, but the blood splatters looked incredibly _realistic_. A good enough costume for the party. I smiled when I pulled the clothes on and they still fit. Not that I was fat, but I had gotten incredibly taller, by at least a couple of inches.

The blood had dried long ago, and had soaked into the fabric making red and brown blotches across the front. I wondered if it had ever been washed and debated sniffing it, but decided against it. Whatever, I just needed something for the party, which was in two hours. There wasn't enough time to get a new 'costume' anyway. This would have to do.

I finished getting ready and patted my pants down, looking for my car keys. Check. My wallet was in my coat and- no, that was pretty much it. I didn't plan on getting so high and drunk that I passed out, even though I wanted to. It wouldn't look good in front of Butters, who already proved that he barely even tolerated my smoking.

It had been about two months since we'd first met, and I was spending a good portion of my free time with him. Going to movies, playing video games, just hanging out, studying, you name it, I did it with him because god_damn_it, I was determined to get him into bed. And it wasn't so bad, not really. He's spunky and I'm quiet, so I guess we evened each other out. I wasn't looking for friendship, though. Not really, I had friends. I had Stan, Kyle, and Cartman. We just- didn't really hang out that much anymore. We were still friends.

Butters was just a little something extra. Or not really 'little' at all because all I could manage to ever do was think about him and what having sex with him will be like. I say 'will' because that's the truth. I _will_ have sex with Butters, it would just take some time. A little extra time. He trusted me already, it couldn't be that far from now. Not that far, but I was going insane with every passing day. Jacking off only got me so far, especially with limited fetish fuel. I wanted to see him doing horrible, degrading things.

My lips turned up slightly at the corners, and I smiled while picking some crap off of my floor and throwing it into the trash. I had such wonderful ideas, and was sure he would play along with them. Already he was agreeing. After all, I had convinced him to wear women's clothes to the party. Actually, the party was just an excuse to see him crossdress. It'd been a while since he'd unknowingly given me sexual favors, so the excuse of Halloween and a costume was just what I needed to have him wear hose and a dress for me.

For me.

Always for me, Butters did whatever I wanted, even though I didn't ask that much from him. I had just explained that 'hey, I'm going to a party on Halloween, you'll come, right, dude?', and he eagerly agreed. 'But what should I wear?' he'd said, and I'd paused, pretending to think as if I didn't have it all planned out. 'You should wear a dress or something, that would be hilarious. Everyone would love it.' A promise of popularity and admiration was all Butters needed. I knew him so well.

Half an hour later I finished cleaning up and decided it was about time to pick up Butters. There wasn't a need for me to get ready so early in advance, but I was anxious to see him in the outfit that he would be wearing. Getting dressed early didn't help time move faster, though. I compensated by taking the elevator down and sprinting across the parking lot to my pickup, shivering as I pulled my hood up. Too cold, too early.

The radiator came to life, complaining and sputtering, and I smacked the dashboard, willing it to work faster. A blast of cold air hit my face and I scowled, turning it down and putting it on defrost until it warmed up. The radio was turned on and I pulled out of the parking lot. Driving was easy and a good way to relax. It was easy to just relax against the seat and _drive_, knowing the directions well enough that I didn't have to concentrate.

However many turn signals and exits later (like I said, I knew the directions, I didn't have to count), I pulled into campus and slowed down. Thirty mph was annoying, but nearby suburb kids had come out to start trick-or-treating already. A couple of costumed kids darted across the road, and I swore, honking my horn at them while the rest of their group laughed and watched. My annoyance faded. I'd been one of those kids just yesterday. I was still wearing my homemade ghost costume, wasn't I?

It was nerve wracking to have so many hyper children running around and jostling each other, though, and I was glad when I was able to put my truck into park and shut the engine off in front of Butters' dorm. I stepped out of the car, and waited for a couple of trick-or-treaters to run up the driveway before I followed them. They huddled around the porch, and I heard Butters' voice among their excitement.

"I'm Spiderman!" one of the boys exclaimed, and pretended to shoot webs from his wrist. The others joined in with their costume titles.

"Why, you sure are scary!"

The kids laughed and bounced on their feet impatiently when Butters undoubtedly handed out the candy. Having received their treats, they ran across the lawn and away from the house, racing each other to their next destination. Butters looked up at me, not knowing I had been watching, and I could see the slightest bit of blush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. I could also see his outfit.

"H-Hey, Kenny. Let me just- uh- p-put this here…" Butters stuttered, closing the door behind him as he grabbed his coat from inside. He set a bowl in the shape and design of a pumpkin, filled with candy, on a chair in front of the door.

"Aren't your roommates going to hand it out?" I didn't comment on his outfit, but did not stop my eyes from taking it all in.

He looked away, and shuffled his feet awkwardly. I could see his breath in the air. "No, the fellas all went to their own parties and stuff. They'd probably be drinkin if they were here, too. I wouldn't want them to scare all the kids away and stuff." His voice was barely a mumble.

"I'm sure they'll get plenty of candy anyway."

"I-I guess that's true." Butters looked behind him at the bowl, almost as if he was checking to make sure it was there, before shrugging his shoulders and stepping off the porch to meet me.

"Nice outfit, by the way." I smiled, and Butters looked mortified. The slight breeze ruffled his suspiciously short blue dress, and he shivered. He must have been freezing in the sleeveless dress and only thigh high stockings to match. I was a bit disappointed that he didn't wear tights. "You really went all out with the thigh highs and stuff, dude." I would milk this for all it was worth.

Butters refused to look at me while I unlocked the car, and hurriedly jumped in, buckling himself up. He placed his hands in his lap and shifted uncomfortably, pulling his dress down over his knees so that it stretched out and hid his figure completely. "I-I didn't know what to buy, you said wear a dress and all, but I couldn't find nothin at Macy's that looked okay. …Girls shop at Macy's, don't they?" He looked at me, then, more concerned that his costume was accurate than the fact that he must have known that I noticed his shaved legs.

"Yeah, sure. What's with the lace, though?" The heater came on, already warmed up from my previous drive. I reached over and set my hand on his thigh, twiddling the lace of the bottom of his dress between my fingers. Butters' face could get no more red.

He lifted his hands up from his lap to furiously rub his knuckles together. "I-I asked the lady at the register for a dress and stuff, and she asked me if it was for a lady friend, s-so I said yes and she went over to the-" his voice got quiet "_bras_ and stuff, and got me this dress and these s-sock things."

My eyes were wide, and I looked over at him, my mind no longer on the road. "…Are you serious, dude? You're wearing _lingerie?_" The idea was too funny to be sexy, and I laughed loudly. Butters looked like he could die.

"I- I didn't want to s-say no, it was already embarrassing…" His attention was focused outside the window at the cars passing by us.

"Well, it looks okay on you. They'll love it, I promise. No one will know." No one except me, but that was okay because I didn't really plan on sharing him. Once the hilarity of it wore away, though, I was able to fully appreciate the silk fabric that covered his body, but only enough before I began fantasizing about taking it off of him.

* * *

The party was hosted by a friend of mine from my English class. Or, as much as peer review partners could be friends. The line was kind of blurry, but friendly acquaintances or not, he gave me a big hug when Butters and I rang the doorbell. Music thrummed deep within the house, and his large hands smacked me on the back in greeting.

"Hey dude, we got so much shit inside, I'm glad you came." He laughed and tripped over the pants of his Jersey Shore costume slightly. Unoriginal, but his large frame made the fake abs sort of funny, in the way that something purposefully unfunny could ever be. "So you brought your buddy after all."

I could almost feel the embarrassment coming off of Butters since I had been so used to it in the car. He smiled weakly and raised his hand in a greeting, but slid slightly closer to me.

"Yeah Tim, this is Butters." I smiled and placed my arm around his shoulders. That coupled with his shyness, eager to get closer to me, made me feel incredibly good.

"Great costume, dude. Come in, we've got chips and beer and shit inside." He opened the door wider, and I stepped in, pulling Butters along with me.

The door shut behind us, and Tim lumbered away. Already there were people everywhere, talking and laughing. Butters rested his hand on my side, and didn't hide the fact that he tightened it into a fist to hold onto me very well. I looked over at him, and he bit his lip, flicking his eyes up to meet mine. Nervous.

"Relax, take off your coat. It's not like I know any of these people either. They're all drunk anyway, they'll be nice." I stepped away from him to walk behind him, putting my hands on his shoulders. He got the hint and pulled out of his coat. I tossed it onto a nearby chair, which he didn't looked to pleased about.

Around us, the music blared. I had no idea where it was coming from, Tim must have had a lot of speakers. Fake spider webs decorated parts of the walls and furniture, and there were a couple of pumpkins and Halloween props around, but other than that, it was just an excuse to party. There was always an excuse to party. I smiled, wandering over to a group of people that I overheard talking about a band I liked. The air was thick and smelled like smoke and weed. I loved it.

I introduced myself, smoothly merging myself into their group and conversation. I was right, they were all friendly. They laughed, a bit tipsy we conversed. There were two Jokers, who both admitted to just finding the easiest costume they could think of, a matching Batman, and a sexy- something. I had no idea what the girl's costume was, I could never tell. It was always a sexy version of something or another. My eyes locked on her while the Batman turned up the speakers. The group all yelled in protest, and I plugged my ears, making a dramatic face. She laughed.

Shots were passed around, and other people joined us, eager to socialize. The atmosphere was wonderful, and the music made me energized. I missed this. I'd never been to a party where I didn't know anyone, and felt good at my confidence and ability to become well liked. It was all overwhelming, and when a joint was handed to me from the Joker standing next to me, I took it, inhaling deeply. I laughed. It tasted slightly like crayons, and I felt _good._

We continued laughing and dancing, and vaguely I heard someone speaking normally. I ignored it until a sharp tug on my orange jacket pulled me back.

"_Kenny._" It was Butters, and he looked upset. "I don't like it here, I want to leave."

His voice seemed distant and I could barely hear him over the deep bass and adrenaline. I smiled and took his hand off of me, holding his wrist. "You should just come over here and have fun with us!" My voice was loud, trying to be heard.

"You didn't tell me it would be _that_ kind of party!" He gestured to a couple of Budweiser cans resting on top of a radio. I looked back at him, disbelieving.

"Well yeah, it's a party, I mean we're in college and-"

"Kenny!" The sexy something-or-other came up to us, and I was momentarily relieved. I wanted to stay, I was having fun, maybe she would pull me back into the crowd and Butters would relax. The drink in her hand sloshed a bit when she pushed back her dark hair, resting her hand on my back and then around my waist. "You didn't say you had a girlfriend." Her voice slurred slightly.

"Oh he's not-" my words were drowned out by the start of a new song.

Butters looked at her, and then at me. Something on his face looked hurt, and he furrowed his eyebrows and angrily turned away. It would have been slightly comical, when a drunken girl fell onto him and his eyes widened and began stuttering, excusing himself as he tried desperately to worm his way out of the crowd, but instead, I felt guilty. I looked down at the drink I was holding and sighed.

"Where are you going, we were just going to start playing w-"

"It's okay, go on without me." I smiled at her and she blinked, looking somewhat disappointed before turning back to her group.

I set my drink down on a table, and began making my way through the sea of people, out of the living room and into the kitchen. The kitchen had a white tiled floor and blue cabinets, and couples were kissing on most of the surfaces. They bumped things off of the counters, making a mess while lost in their own world of lust. I would have none of that if I didn't find Butters, and he certainly wouldn't be with them.

The halls were congested with college students, and the second story was the same. I hadn't known that Tim was so popular. Become frustrated as I entered each new room only to find a puking guy or a couple engaging in sexual acts, I cautiously made my way into my friend's parents' room, remembering something about it being off limits. I shut the door behind me and the music was dulled. It was dark, the only light being a couple of orange decoration lights strung on the walls, but I could tell Butters wasn't there. Giving up and turning to go back into the party, I paused when I saw him sitting outside on a balcony.

A glass door divided the balcony from the bedroom, and I quietly walked over to it. I slid open the door, the night air freezing in my face. Butters didn't acknowledge me, but I knew he knew I was there. He'd found his coat, and was shivering, arms crossed and looking out at the subdivision that made up the rest of the neighborhood. His expression no longer seemed angry, but hurt.

"You should come inside," I said after a while. He didn't look at me, but frowned. "Come on, it's like two degrees out here." I reached out my hand and set it on his upper arm, persuading him to stand up. He agreed to my touch and stood. I backed up, and closed the door behind him when he entered the house.

It took me a while to say something, and he just stood there, staring at the wall. His expression was pissed of again, but the hurt was still there. "Look dude, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have ignored you and stuff, I know you're shy."

He looked at me, then, the hurt gone. "But you kept ignoring me! I-I told you I wanted to leave five times, Kenny! We took your car!"

"Five times?" I was confused. I only remembered him asking me once. "We've only been here like half an hour."

Butters frowned harder, becoming tense. "We've been here three hours! You kept ignoring me and telling me to go drink and stuff! You know I don't drink, you said there wouldn't be drinking!"

…Oh yeah. Yes, I had. I'd forgotten about that, I just wanted to see him in his dress. The dress that he was still wearing, standing before me, angry. "Woah, I don't remember-"

"Well you did, Kenny. Or did you get too high to remember?"

I definitely wasn't high, because I felt like shit and my mind was not at ease. I hadn't meant to ignore him or drink or do any drugs of any kind. The atmosphere had just been to overwhelming and the people too friendly to pass up the invitation. One moment of self gratification had just jeopardized all of the sexual gratification I had been expecting to come.

"What did you expect!" But that wasn't fair. We were adults, we weren't kids. I could have fun and so could he, but he was too uptight. It wasn't my problem, though. Everyone drank and everyone smoked, it wasn't that hard to understand. He shouldn't be so angry. "Fuck dude, we're like twenty! Yeah, when you go to a party there's going to be beer and shit! You're so fucking uptight! You could have just like _talked_ to someone like I did!" My voice rose, and I could see his anger and determination rise on his face.

"J-Just because you want to throw your life away and get addicted to that stuff doesn't mean I want to! Y-You think I don't know what that stuff's like! Well, Kenny, I know a fella who did all of that and he screwed up his entire life and everyone _hates_ him." The word sounded bitter on his tongue when he stressed it, and almost immediately the anger left him, as if that one word changed everything. "A-And I wanted to talk to you, but you just wanted t-to talk to that lady."

Oh _fuck_ he was not crying.

I stood and watched him as he began to cry silently, gritting his teeth. This couldn't all be about the party and a couple of beers and joints, there had to have been something else. Maybe I didn't know everything about Butters. Maybe I fucked up.

"…Dude-…" His coat dropped off of his shoulders and onto the floor, and he didn't bother to pick it up. The blue of his dress seemed a lot lighter in contrast to such a dark room. I wasn't turned on. It didn't seem natural for him to wear it, it reminded me that I had manipulated him into doing it. Manipulated him, and then ignored him in favor of more outgoing company. "I'm sorry."

The apology was not immediately accepted and he didn't look at me. I would have to try harder. "Look-" I didn't know where to begin, and Butters continued to cry softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you, and I didn't mean to lie to you either-"

"You knew," he said, and looked at me, "the drinking and s-stuff might not bother you, but it bothers me."

I sighed, caught in a trap that I didn't know how to get out of. I wanted to apologize, and felt legitimately sorry, but didn't know how to convey it. There was Butters who was my sexual fantasy, and then there was Butters who was a person who had feelings, even if on the more emotional side. He was human, he was upset.

"Okay." I said, and my hands relaxed at my sides. "Okay, I knew, and I shouldn't have invited you. But- I'm actually sort of quiet too, Butters, that's why I wanted to bring you. You're the best friend I have here, and I didn't want to seem alone. I just thought that maybe you'd enjoy it, and have fun with me. I wanted you to have fun, I didn't intend to make you angry. It was a mistake."

Butters looked to the side. "Do you mean it? I'm your best friend?" There was no stuttering, and he hugged his arms close to himself. He looked up at me, no longer crying.

"Yeah."

There seemed to be an inconceivable amount of _happiness_ on his face, but it was suppressed. He was trying so, so hard not to smile. I could see it in his eyes, though, and I was tired of waiting, tired of playing this game.

"Yeah, Butters, you're my best friend. I like you a lot." I stepped closer to him, tentative at first but becoming more confident as I closed the distance between us. "A lot, Butters. You're nice and understanding and can understand me when I pull my hood tight." He laughed slightly, and I set my hands on his upper arms. He looked up at me. Blue eyes. "I really do like you, you're my best friend, I want us to be close. I want you to be my boyfriend."

Blue eyes widened and he stuttered nothing in particular, pulling back slightly, but I kept my hold on him. "A-Are you-" His face was pure red.

"I'm serious. I want you to go out with me." I gripped his arms slightly tighter, and I could feel him shiver slightly. Almost unnoticeably. "I want to be your boyfriend."

He didn't even try to hide the joy on his face. Butters stepped forward towards me, and shakily, brought his hands up to rest on the sides of my waist. I could almost literally feel his heart pounding, the rush of blood that lit up his face. I had been wrong before, Butters wasn't average, Butters was _gorgeous._ He was handsome, in all meaning of the word, but unable to notice it himself. He needed me, he needed me to tell him. I would tell him.

"Oh-" Like he didn't believe it, Butters tested the sound of his voice, wide eyes locking with mine, "O-Okay." His voice was almost inaudible.

"Thank you, Butters." I'd done it, it was a sealed deal, and I didn't need his signature in his blood. Instead, I had his heart.

"Call me Leopold."

Kissing Butters wasn't new or exciting. After all, I had kissed him before. Most kisses felt the same, but the people behind them were never alike. Kissing Leopold was different. He was so soft and careful, shy, scared of rejection but needing the sense of closeness so desperately. If Leopold had been starved of attention before, he was getting all he needed now. Leopold.

His lips were soft, his body was warm and he felt incredibly good. It'd been a while since I felt this, and I missed it. It felt nostalgic, but Butters was new. Butters felt like South Park, but we had changed and it was different. I wasn't reliving the past, I was only reminded of it as I felt his body underneath my hands. Familiar. But kissing him was new, because nowhere in my memories did I remember pressing my lips against his. It was a strange combination.

"You feel warm," I said, and my hands moved up to touch the side of his face, "I thought you were cold."

He breathed heavily, and closed his eyes, tightening his hands on my jacket. I was reminded of earlier that night. He had come with me as a friend, and would leave as my boyfriend. He really did look good in the dress, and I had the urge to reach up underneath it. This was the next step, though. I had to be patient, everything would fall quicker into place now.

"I-I was…" He looked back up with me, and it felt strange to think of him using his birth name. Leopold. I'd forgotten that his name wasn't Butters.

Leopold squeezed his eyes shut again, and reconnected our lips suddenly. I hadn't expected him to take such an initiative. But he wasn't completely shy, I knew he wanted it. I knew he wanted it so bad, I knew that kissing me felt so good to him. Had he ever kissed another man? He'd kissed girls back in elementary school, but I had never paid much attention. After all, he hadn't come out back then. But he was openly gay now. What a shock that an old school buddy would have had an interest in him after all. And he would come to learn that I definitely, definitely had an interest in him.

* * *

**Review if you've been waiting for Kenny to stop being careful with Butters' feelings and just ask him out so he can fuck him. Also, review if you think that one of the reasons I want to call Butters Leopold is so that I can write 'Leopold's' instead of 'Butters's' or whatever, because that confuses the fuck out of me.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Late update, since I've been doing a lot of drawing and working on other fics. Plus work and scho- no, wait, I was on break, I have no excuse. Anyway, you asked WHERE IS MY GAY PORN!1? so here's your gay porn, jesus christ, have more faith in me, and remember that sex is the main topic in this.

* * *

**

I don't consider myself smart. Or, at least, booksmart. I leave the booksmarts up to Kyle, he was always better at studying and memorizing facts than I was. When it comes to tests and quizzes and open lab, no, I wouldn't say that I'm particularly talented. There isn't really any _considering_ involved though. Either you're good at school, or you're not, and I'm definitely not.

It's not that I'm stupid, I'm just not good at tests and facts. Applying what I learn is no problem, but memorizing it has never been my strong point. It's like everything that goes in one ear, goes out the other (if it can even get in at all, since I usually like to keep my hood up in class). Not that I don't try, I just can't seem to remember anything. All of it has always seemed so superficial, since the only reason you need to learn anything is for a test, not because it's actually relevant to life.

During High School I failed a lot. I just simply didn't pay attention. Nothing really mattered to me, I just wanted out of school, and to be an adult and do adult things like party and do drugs. I didn't want to be shackled down by my family, or by school, I wanted to be free. But during the middle of my junior year, I realized that school was the only thing that _could_ liberate me, and I worked my ass off to make up for all of my old D's and F's.

When some people change, there's some sort of catalyst that changes their life or awakens them to the truth. Like, when someone close to them dies, something goes off in their brain and makes them say 'there is no god, with this kind of suffering' (they don't listen to me when I assure them that there is both a god and a devil, and that the devil is actually much more likable than god is, and that I've met them both myself). But nothing like that really happened to me. Or at least, I don't think so, since it was a couple of years ago. The most that I can really pinpoint would be seeing my father passed out drunk on the floor. But this wasn't any sort of special occasion, it happened all the time. Sometimes with my brother, or my mother, but usually my father. And one day I just realized- I'm not doing it. I never wanted to be like them, but going down the same path they did wouldn't help me get away.

Of course it was hard, teaching myself to actually study and pay attention, but my friends approved and that was mainly what kept me going. Apart from my own self motivation, that is. Because what it all boiled down to, was that I wanted a better life, and no one could help me get there faster than myself. It was torturous, after a life of texting and doodling during class, but eventually I learned how to pay attention and participate, and it paid off.

Kyle was especially happy when I got my High School diploma and got accepted into community college. Thinking back on it, he was _very_ pleased, and probably wondered from time to time if I was doing okay without his help and support. And in turn, I wondered from time to time if I should call him up. But I didn't, I never did, and I'm not exactly sure _why._

I wasn't mad at them (except for maybe Cartman, but we'd always hated him, it was nothing new), and there was nothing to hide, but thinking about having to explain everything that had happened to me since I'd left South Park was just too overwhelming. I didn't want to explain, I didn't want to tell my story. I just wanted to pull my hood tight and tag along like usual, like always, like how it used to be. But if I ever showed up again, they wouldn't just accept it and treat me like normal, they would get excited and emotional and remind me that I'd been gone, and that things had _changed._

Essentially, everything had changed. I didn't even know if they still lived in South Park, or if they'd moved away for college, too. And maybe that's why I didn't call, because I wanted my memories to be sweet. I didn't want to know if Stan or Kyle had moved away. I wanted them to forever be nine, and always live in South Park. Always.

But it wasn't likely, so I don't like to think about it. Kyle was probably attending Harvard, or something equally amazing, and Stan most likely moved on to a nice, local college, and Cartman- well, I actually have no idea. I don't actually know a lot about Cartman, because although he's very _open_ about his views(bigotry), his personal life was always kept hidden from us. Cartman was always strange, but he surprisingly tended to know a lot on a select few subjects. But he definitely booksmart, he was always streetsmart. Like me.

I honestly couldn't tell you anything about the history of America, or how to solve a quadratic equation, but I sure as fuck can tell you what to say and how to say it. I can worm myself out of any bad situation, and turn it around completely 180 degrees into the other direction. I can manipulate. A smooth talker. And maybe that's where I'll excel, and where I'll always excel, because the results of my streetsmarts have always tended to be much greater than that of my education.

For one, it helped me get into college. Don't think my grades had _anything_ to do with that. And secondly, it's helped me get Butters. Because that's what it is, right? Manipulation, skillful words, _lies._ I have no interest in falling in love with Butters, or loving him at all. I'm not in this for love, I'm in it to finally have someone let me tie them up and handcuff them to fucking _anything_ while I make them orgasm repeatedly from a sex machine while I watch and jack off onto their face. And so far, the words have worked, and my fantasies seem somewhat tangible.

In all honesty, I'm an optimistic person, but I'm not just trying to look on the bright side here. No, I have Butters completely wound around my finger. I'll have him on his knees with a vibrator in his ass while he begs for me to touch him in no time. And when that time comes, I'm going to milk it for everything it's worth. I already know the first night will be amazing, because I haven't actually fucked in a while, and _damn _if I don't plan on having multiple orgasms. I am going to make him scream so hard that the only thing he'll be able to do is try to remember to breathe. But not yet.

I don't know what I'm waiting for, but not yet. I could probably just ask to fuck now, and he'd say yes. Well, maybe a little more eloquently than that, with flowers and kisses and suaveness, or whatever the fuck, but he'd almost definitely say yes. Because it's been a couple of weeks since we started '_dating_', and I've gotten in a few good gropes here and there. More importantly, though, is that he's returned the favor multiple times. Maybe a bit more timid, but I can definitely feel him kiss back, and the way he constantly brushes my ass with his hands when we hug. It's not that I'm still worried about luring him into my bed, but- I'm just waiting for the right time.

I want it to be perfect, the epitome of lust and timing when I finally decide to fuck him. I'm a quality over quantity guy, so deciding to screw in a janitor's closet for the first time wouldn't be that fun. …Well actually it would, but not for the first time, like I said. No, I want to let loose. I want to have him in my apartment with the door locked, with all of my… _equipment_… to ensure a good time. And after that would come the second half of the fun, when I could ask for it anywhere, at any time, and I'd get it. Like I said, quality over quantity, and exhibitionism is _definitely_ quality.

It would be nice to have him suck me off under the desk during English class. Instead, though, my legs weren't spread and my dick wasn't being sucked, and I was taking notes on what was being written on the board. Or not, I hadn't noticed drifting off into a daydream.

"- Which we will be having a test over," my teacher said, and my head jerked up, "so make sure to read the pages I just told you to."

It usually tended to be that the subjects that are covered when you're not paying attention, are the only ones on the test. I looked around the room, trying to see if anyone else was in my predicament. My peers seemed to all be attentive, though, so I asked the man sitting next to me _what the hell was going on._ He was older, around forty, but didn't seem to judge me for my irresponsibility (it was probably the reason he was only just now attending college), and wrote down the pages for me.

"Thanks man," I said, and shoved the paper into my pocket.

"No problem, it gets a little boring."

I had to agree. English didn't strike me much, there's too much analysis on conclusions that are often overtly obvious. There isn't anything to not _understand_ when reading a piece, unless you're a complete idiot or a foreigner, and don't understand the English language at all. Which brought my mind back to Butters again. He'd mentioned something about switching his majors, that he wanted to write. Which was hilarious because I only remember him writing the second Scrotie McBoogerballs installment, and well-. It was just dirty language and things only fourth graders would find funny.

All the disgusting things both he and I wrote have probably evolved into something extremely perverse, now, though. It wasn't hard to imagine that if he could write such _disgusting_ and completely unsexual things back then, that he could write some absolutely _wonderful_ and perverted things now. I smiled at the thought, and once again, I zoned out of the classroom and into my own mind.

Most people seem to have the wrong impression of Butters. They tend to think that just because he's a pushover, that he's an absolute pussy. And sometimes he is, but what they don't know is that he's not really completely submissive. At first glance they notice his stuttering and his easy going nature, and that's what I always noticed, too, but they don't remember the instances when he puts his foot down and says _no._ Because Butters can be extremely stubborn, and Butters can be very _forward._

When he wants to, anyway. It doesn't happen all that often, since he's more of a follower than a leader, but thinking back on it, I remember all of the times that he simply blurted out what he wanted instead of fucking around vaguely like most people. It's not hard to imagine, then, that he'd be able to talk dirty. And oh _god_, with the _stuttering-_

I needed to leave class.

I looked up at the clock. Five minutes to go, I wouldn't miss anything important that I hadn't already ignored. Packing up my things, I swung my bag over my shoulder and made my way quietly out off the classroom, feeling lucky that I sat close to the door. A couple of people looked at me with disinterest. I didn't talk much, so it was nothing exciting.

The hallways were deserted, but I knew it wouldn't be smart to jerk off in the bathroom in case anyone came in and reported me or something (it had happened more than once). Instead, I was quick to come up with a plan B, and almost jogged down a flight of stairs to a biology room that was usually empty. I jiggled the handle, and smirked when it opened. The door was carefully locked, and I dumped my book bag onto the ground.

Yes, it was absolutely necessary to skip class, because damn if I wasn't horny. I generally masturbated every night, at the very least, but the day before had been hectic and I hadn't gotten off work until two in the morning and after that, I really was just too tired to pleasure myself. I needed a little relief, and moved to sit in a chair near the door.

It was a bit chilly, but I didn't mind, because all I could think about was Butters and how potentially dirty his mouth was. I unzipped my pants and touched myself lightly. I'd really, _really_ like to hear what he was capable, because I truly believed in him. I knew he would probably love to whisper the dirtiest shit into my ear while he fucked me. And that seemed very appealing then, and I knew the subject of what I would be masturbating to at that moment.

I don't like to really start going at it until I have a theme or a particular thought. In my experience, jerking off to multiple ideas isn't as fulfilling as thinking about one thing in particular and sticking with it. But right then, imagining Butters' sex talk while he rammed into me sounded very appealing, and I didn't even try to not moan as I gripped myself at the base. Yeah, _very appealing._

He was definitely capable of it, and if not, I would teach him. I wouldn't have thought that having my ass pounded would have felt so good when I was younger, but it definitely did. Butters would understand that. He would shove me down and fucking _abuse_ me, and oh shit I would scream so loud. Not because it would actually hurt when he slapped me and choked me, but because it added to the atmosphere. I wanted to feel helpless, worthless, his erection in me.

"You f-fucking whore." I don't know if I could see his face, it probably wouldn't matter. "Yeah I know you want it, Kenny, w-why I can just see you beggin for me to fuck you. Gosh darn _slut_, you filthy piece of _shit,_ you're not good for nothin other than for me to screw you. And that's just what you want, i-isn't it?"

Maybe he would touch me then, drag his hands down my chest until he gripped me so hard it hurt. I mimicked the action of my fantasy, and bit my lip.

"You're so fucking hard, you've just been waitin. Y-You've just been waitin for me to come around and fuck ya, haven't you?" Maybe he'd slap me, too, and shove me harder against the floor. It sounded nice. "If you want ta have my cock in you then you'll fucking work for it."

And then he'd finger me, one at first, up to the knuckle. I wiggled out of my jeans and underwear, feeling much better as I got into a more comfortable position to do what I imagined him doing, my hand moving at an even pace. He'd probably prepare me for a while, easy at first because he didn't want to hurt me at heart, but then become impatient and more. I bit my lip harder, scissoring myself and feeling needy. Panting.

"Slut," he'd say, "w-whore. You're fuckin on your hands and knees with your ass up, beggin for it. Do you want it? You want it, dontcha? F-Fucking answer me!" And he'd slap me again and fuck I _moaned._

"O-Oh god yes I want it, oh fuck I want it so bad." I found myself saying.

He'd probably ask me to beg for it, but I was tired of preparation and keeping my hand at a reasonable pace. I just wanted him to _fuck me,_ and so he did. Butters would remove his hand from my dick and I would get it, because I was a filthy fucking slut and he would pound the daylights out of me. He'd go in so hard and grip my hips until his fingernails made me bleed as he drew back and repeated, all the while filthy words filled my ears.

And then he'd want _more_ and I'd want_ more_ and he'd pull my head up by my hair so that I was kneeling, and spread my legs so that he lifted my thigh up impossibly high for better access. And I could almost feel his dick inside me as I finger fucked myself and he screwed me hard. Horrible words and bites and his hand would be around me.

I started to jerk myself fast, feeling precum drip down my penis onto my hand, and I rubbed the top of my dick, again moaning. Shit, I wanted him in me. I wanted him to fuck me so bad and so hard like he was in my mind, absolutely _used._ I wanted to feel my skin scrape against the floor or against the wall or against the sheets while he fucked me, over and over again until it chaffed but I couldn't even tell because my mind was too overwhelmed with pleasure, to which the pain only added.

My mind was heavy, and my breath as well when I felt my orgasm start to build. "F-Fuck…!" I was still fingering myself, as hard as I could, trying to replicate what was in my mind. Butters rocking into me, grinding his hips against mine as he started to pump me, and I couldn't help screaming for him to _please, please!_ My wrist was starting to hurt, and I spread my legs farther to feel that last bit of raw pleasure as I began to lose control.

"Cum for me, Kenny, you dang _w-whore!_" And he was fucking me so hard and I felt as if my mind was going to break while my hand moved so fast and my fingers were inside me and I rubbed against that one _spot_ and jesus I couldn't breathe I wanted to cum cum cum and oh _fuck, Butters._

I hadn't realized how heavy I'd been breathing until I reached climax, and I stopped breathing all together. My breath caught in my lungs, and I slumped forward onto the desk while my toes curled. The desk felt immediately cold against my chest, but I couldn't support myself any longer, and I came in spurts onto the floor. It had built and built and built, and the glorious climax came finally. My mind was a jumbled mess, and I thought of nothing as I continued to pump myself, drawing it out as long as I could.

When nothing more could be salvaged, I resumed my heavy breathing, face hot against the cold table. I just breathed for a while, my hands slowly dropping away. It had been good, definitely making up for the night before. And when a part of me told myself that it could have been even _better_ if I'd brought a dildo with me, I knew that the afterhaze had truly finished.

It still took me a while to collect myself, though, and regain my thoughts. But when I did, and I finished zipping up my jeans and buttoning my shirt, I pulled my cell out of my pocket. I wasn't much for texting, but knew what I wanted at that point.

My fingers moved quickly across the keypad, programmed to the nature of it since I'd had a phone for about four years (we were poor as shit, which meant that my mother thought it was an absolute necessity to buy phones for us to look like we weren't).

_You should come over tonight._ Send.

The reply took about a minute as I looked around the room at the jars of preserved things that I hadn't noticed before. I didn't really feel like cleaning up the mess I'd made on the floor, and smirked.

_Alright, will you pick me up after my Marketing class, then? :) _Even a smiley face. It made my smirk grow wider.

_Of course, Leopold. _

And then, in less than thirty seconds: _You're the best, Kenny._

I really didn't know what I had been waiting for. He was obviously ready, and so was I.

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**Review if you think you know what's going to happen in the next chapter, and if you've been waiting since chapter 1 to read it~~**


	7. Chapter 7

**Well I finally got my computer. Expect more updates now that I finally got the sex over with so I can adlsfkj write more~~**

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I don't know what I'm doing. Honestly, I don't know why I'm here. There's a lot of unanswered questions, and my immortality doesn't make me different in that sense. Just because I can't die doesn't mean I know any more of life's mysteries than the average person does. I just try and get through day by day.

Maybe it should bother me, but it doesn't. I think it bothers most people. Not knowing, I mean. But not knowing has always been around for me. I don't know why I can't die, I don't know why my family fucked up so bad while my friends' didn't, I don't know why god only lets in the Mormons, and I don't know why I'm doing this. _This._ Is it just a game? Life? But no, it can't be, because there's always a winner and a loser in a game, and life has neither.

In the end, we all lose.

Or is that right? If we all lose, we all die, then it's a tie. There's no point, no motive or competition. Not really. People try and make meanings for their lives by getting rich or powerful, but in the end, we're all the same. We're all human. Or at least, I think we are. I don't know what I am. I don't know when I'll die, or if I'll die at all. It's a very lonely feeling. I've seen the shows on TV, the ones where someone is immortal and falls in love with a mortal only to get heartbroken at their death. Is that what will happen to me? I have so many questions.

Given the chance, what would I ask first? Honestly I have no idea. Every question is equal to me in relevance. But they'll never get answered. I'm no more special than anyone else, and no one else has ever (or will ever) gotten the chance to ask. I remember when we went through a High School Musical phase, there was this song- and it was right. We're all in this together. But not in the faggy musical way, but what those words actually mean.

I have no idea what I'm saying now. I think I was going somewhere with this, but my mind is muffled. Someone put a mute in my brain, and now the lyrical notes are filtered. It feels like I'm wandering. Waiting. What should I do? I know what's going to happen tonight, but that's not what I mean. I mean- I've been looking forward to this for so long; fucking Butters. But what sort of impact does that have on my life? What will it mean to finally be able to screw him into the ground? Is it even relevant? Is my life that boring and shallow that this will be the greatest accomplishment I've had in months, perhaps years?

Maybe. Who am I to know. I don't know anything. I don't know the future. Just because I can't die doesn't mean I have _real_ supernatural powers. It just makes me worry that this is what my life has been reduced to; fucking. I've always loved it, always had an affinity for it, but- I don't know. Maybe I'm just feeling strange now. Maybe it's anticipation, because my heart is going crazy waiting out in the cold for him. For Butters.

It's not a feeling of love, just of an intense attraction and need. I don't love Butters, I don't need any heartbreak or to take a ride down fag lane, I just want him in my bed. Because tonight is the night. _The_ night, and I can't wait. I've waited for this for so long. I need him. I need him in my bed and under my body and around my cock. Perverse in nature, Butters is all I want at the moment, and I guess I should just be satisfied with that.

I haven't been this excited in a long, long time. That within itself should make me happy. And I am happy, I suppose, because my heart is beating incredibly fast and I keep checking my phone. People walk past me, and I draw my hood up to become inconspicuous. It feels nice, my own little world. Not to be an isolationist, or- well okay, maybe I am. It's true that I'm shy, but it just feels so much better to watch people from a distance. It's like my hood is a barrier. I'll take it off when Butters comes out, I'll let down those walls.

The wind is chilly, and it makes me shiver. Biting cold. Freezing. I don't want to be outside, I'd rather be in my truck with Butters all buckled up and ready to go home to have his brains screwed out. My lips turn up in a smile as I lean back against the bench. He has no idea what's in store for him. It'll be such a wonderful surprise. To think, only a couple hours and he'll be in orgasm heaven, moaning and arching his back as I ram into him.

My already fast heart rate increases with anticipation. Yes, it'll be wonderful. He's so unorthodoxly gorgeous. Thin little body, small nose, glasses and blue eyes, somewhat short, and a great ass. I've felt it before. That's the plus of dating, is that I get in some good gropes every now and then, and have felt him return the favor on multiple times. It will be so nice too-

"Kenny!"

I choke, and my vision goes black. A pair of hands slap themselves over my eyes, and I'm pulled backwards, my back at a strange angle.

"Butters what are you doing." My voice is calm, and doesn't betray my excitement of having him touch me even in such a platonic way.

I feel him shift, and then his breath is on my face. I remain seated, not moving an inch. "I'm just excited to see you is all," he says, and places a short kiss on my lips.

My heart goes wild once again, and I reach up to grab the back of his head and pull him closer. We refrain from getting to heavy, since Colorado isn't exactly the most gay friendly state, and he lets go after a couple of seconds. I stretch, and hear a pop as I stand. "You look nice."

He blushes, and rubs his knuckles together slightly. I don't know why he does that, he just always has. Looking up, Butters adjusts his glasses and thanks me. I love it when he does that.

"Are you ready to go, then?" Do I sound too eager? I don't mean too, I'm just excited.

"W-Why sure. Say, where are we goin, Kenny?" He sighs slightly as I wrap an arm around his waist.

I pause, and he looks at me confusedly. What if he refuses to come? What if he figures it out before I start to heavily pet him? I don't want the surprise to be ruined, I want the door to my apartment to be locked in case he refuses, before he figures out what _fun_ we're going to have.

"We're-... going to my place."

But Butters says nothing, and merely smiles. Sometimes I have to appreciate his naivety.

* * *

"So which one?"

I lay the DVDs out on the floor, fanning them out as he kneels next to me by my ragged couch.

The trip to my apartment had been spent mostly in relaxed silence, listening to shitty songs on the radio. He hadn't protested when we had to take the stairs due to the elevator being busted, and didn't seem to notice that I locked the door behind myself when we walked in. Now we were kneeling on the floor, our hands close to each other's as he surveyed what I had laid out for him.

It was nothing special, and honestly, I didn't know myself half of the movies that I'd proposed we watch. They were most likely B films, since none of the names or actors rang a bell. Butters studied them individually for a while before picking out one with a woman in a pale dress fishing on the cover. I thought back to Craig. He would have enjoyed how boring it was likely to be. But from the other selections of horror movies, I wasn't surprised that he picked the most cheerful looking one.

I popped in the DVD, and settled down next to Butters on the couch. I noticed how he now sat next to me, instead of a cushion over, and kissed his cheek softly. He stuttered and fumbled with his hands in his lap, and I grinned while going through the DVD menu with my remote.

Five minutes in, and my attention had already waned. Of course movies are never interesting in the beginning, but still, I felt my eyelids droop and my attention being focused on Butters breathing next to me. I could feel the soft fabric of his turtleneck shirt against my skin, and the rise and fall of his chest. I had worked late last night. My manager had been giving me more and more hours, which I appreciated but not when they spanned to 12 hours a day. What a boring movie. A man, a woman, love, and a pet sidekick. So normal, so boring, lulling me to sleep as the glare of the TV reflected off of Butters' face.

"Kenny, wake up."

I groaned, and pushed the hand away that was shaking my shoulder. "Lev 'e alone." I grumbled, and pushed my face into the pillow that I was laying on. It was a slightly uncomfortable pillow.

The voice above me gasped slightly, and tried to rouse me harder. "Kenny, Kenny the movie is over, I want to go home."

...Home? Where was I?

I blinked, and cracked open my eyes, I was laying on Butters' chest, and he was trapped underneath me. I must have rolled onto him when I fell asleep. I didn't remember falling asleep though, and I didn't remember Butters not trying to wake me before. Why hadn't he been as persistent when I first rolled onto him.

"Mm..." I closed my eyes again, and Butters made a slight choking noise.

"K-Kenny, shucks, I-"

"Just let me sleep a little more, okay? Just a nap, 'so tired..." I wrapped my arms around him, and squeezed him to my chest. He squeaked, but complied. I could feel him tense underneath me, unsure of where to place his arms. I dozed off for a little while more, and felt him breathe underneath me. Our legs were touching, and I think I felt his hand on my back. Being with him felt amazing, perfect, right. It wasn't love, it was just a mutual attraction, and I kissed his clothed chest.

I could tell he was tired, because he didn't react at all. I continued to kiss him, placing light touches with my lips all over his chest, not minding that his skin was clothed. He made a content sound, and I continued upward, kissing his neck and jaw line. I was awake, and looked up at him, his eyes closed.

"Leopold." It didn't mean anything, I just said it, and kissed his cheek. Softly, very softly I worshipped him. Not tentative, I was sure of myself. My lips ghosted over his skin, and I started to touch him with my hands as well. He was awake, then, too, although he had not gone to sleep. I could tell because his breaths were coming in quicker and intermittently. Soft, quiet, I started to get hard.

It was then that I knew that tonight _was_ the night. I had him all there, underneath me, playing along exactly how I liked. I didn't want to just kiss though, as I sucked on his jaw, I wanted to fuck. I wanted to screw. I wanted to make myself his entire world. I think he knew too, subconsciously, because he arched his back when I placed my hand underneath his shirt.

"Butters," I said, my breath and voice heavy, "Butters let's get up."

His eyes fluttered open, and he sighed. I urged him along, and our legs got tangled in the process of standing. He wobbled on two feet, and I caught him, dragging him to my room.

Butters seemed dazed, and a sudden rush of sadism overtook me. I kicked my door open, and the second I pulled him in, I flung him down on the bed. He landed with an 'oomph' and his eyes immediately jerked open. I rushed over to him, pushing his shoulders down and attacking his neck. Butters squeaked and pressed his hands against my chest. I looked up, put off.

"Is there something wrong?"

"K-Kenny-!"

"Mmm?" I sucked on his neck, and he moved his head from side to side.

"I don't- I don't think- I-I don't know if we should do this." His voice was quiet, tentative and scared.

My stomach turned cold, and I tried to keep my voice straight. I cleared my throat, scared of having him hear the tremor in my voice. I wanted this so badly. "Why? Don't you think I'll take care of you? Butters- Leopold-..."

He squirmed underneath me, and I let up slightly. His hands covered his face and I frowned. "I-I'm scared Kenny, I don't think- I don't know- w-what if you don't like me, what if you won't like me anymore."

"Oh Leopold," I said, and grabbed his hands away from his face, " how could I ever not like you? You're gorgeous, so handsome, I've been waiting to do this for a long long time. Just trust me. Don't be scared, you're _perfect_."

Butters smiled then, and my heart went wild. I hoped that I had reassured him, and kissed him softer on the lips, but with less passion less I should scare him again. This time he moaned, and melted as I touched the strip of his stomach that was showing underneath his shirt. I massaged his skin with my fingers, kneading and moving them in a circular motion as my tongue slipped out to lick his lips. His lips trembled, but he opened them after a while of persistent kissing the corners of his mouth. My pants felt tight as we mouthed at each other, my tongue delving into the wetness of his mouth and his doing the same. So wet and hot, I felt as if I could die.

My mind was hazy, and I ran my hands up and down his sides. I didn't understand reality at that point, only hearing _yes yes yes yes_, because I had won. This round, I won. I couldn't win at life, but I could win at Butters, and as he moaned and thrust up against me, I knew that I had finally achieved my goal.

I didn't draw attention to his slight erection or the way he was subconsciously grinding against my thigh, but I continued to kiss him and moved my hand farther up his shirt to tweak his nipples.

He gasped then, and I reveled in the way he squirmed underneath me. Soft little noises began to spill from his lips, and I could have just come right then and there, but I had been waiting for this night for so long. Too long. I wanted it. I wanted it then. I wanted him on his hands and knees begging me to fuck him, to thrust my cock inside him and let him rock back against me. I needed to touch him, I needed to feel him, and suddenly I dragged my finger nails down his chest.

Butters screamed, and instantly recoiled. I held him down and shushed him, kissing him harshly and tonguing the inside of his mouth. He pushed against me again, and I had to chuckle as I drew back.

"What the fuck Kenny, w-what the fuck!" His eyes looked hurt, and I furrowed my eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, I guess I just got a bit carried away. Because Butters-" I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, and breathed deeply. Our erections rubbed together, only the clothing of our pants separating us. "I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you so hard that you can't see straight. I want to tie you up and make you cum without touching what you'll need me to touch, I want to put my fingers in you as you sit on my lap blindfolded, but most of all, I want you now."

He didn't say anything for a while, and I only listened to the sound of his breathing. His chest rose and fell rhythmically as my own matched it. Turning his head to the side, away from where my face was, his voice was quiet.

"I don't want you to leave me."

I froze. "I'm not going to leave you, I already told you I'm not going to leave you."

He was silent again, and I didn't know what to do. I wanted to fuck him, I didn't want to talk to him like this. I'd known that Butters had a shitty self esteem, and I remembered back to when we were talking about addictions. He'd mentioned having an addiction of his own, and I wondered what his could be, and if it could possibly be on his mind now. I frowned, and held onto his chin.

"Butters, I'm going to do this. I'm going to touch you, I'm going to have sex with you. You're going to like it, Leopold. And I'm not going to leave you. This isn't a one night stand, I've been thinking about this for ages. I haven't done this with anyone else in so long. Trust me, Butters, I just want to make you feel good."

"I've heard those words before, Kenny. I've heard it all. I'm not- golly, I'm not blaming you or insinuating nothin, but-"

The rest of what he said was drowned out by the rush of blood in my ears. Before? He was not a virgin? My stomach dropped. I had been looking forward to being his first, his only, and the idea of taking him for his first time. Who had he slept with before? Rage suddenly washed over me, and I shook my head.

"Then let me prove it."

If I couldn't be his first, then I would be his best. Holding him down with one hand and glancing up only briefly to see his worried face, I scooted down on my bed. My free hand fumbled with his zipper. I felt his hand around my wrist, but I shook him off.

"Trust me."

He fell back against the bed, and I moved the hand that had been on him to fiddle with the button on his pants. It came undone and I zipped them down. Smiling, I saw the underwear he was wearing. Light purple. I hadn't even known that men's underwear _came_ in light purple. But nevertheless, I pulled his pants off and flung them in a corner. His breathing was becoming irregular, his eyes wide as I hooked my thumbs into the top of his boxers. I could see the tent in them, his erection, and I throbbed with need.

"_Trust me,_" I said, and pulled them down.

His penis sprung free, no longer tightly contained, and my jaw clenched. He was averaged sized, blonde pubic hair framing the base, but I had never seen anything more of a turn on in my life. My hands trembled, and I could see Butters squeeze his eyes shut. His lips were white and thin as they pressed together tightly.

"Don't be afraid."

Softly, tentatively, I placed my hand on his stomach. I felt my cock twitch, and I trailed a finger down to settle in the light layer of pubic hair at his abdomen. Again my hand trembled, and I set the other on the inside of his thigh. With great consideration and care, I finally wrapped my hand around his erection, and Butters gasped. The absolute emotion that dripped from his voice made me moan, and I travelled a finger up the underside of his dick along the vein. I reached the head, and ran my thumb over it, smearing a bit of precum down the sides. Butters whimpered. I moaned again.

I started to pump him, slowly at first but growing faster. He writhed, whimpering and keening as I touched him. To touch him so intimately was something I had only dreamed of, and my breath hitched as I felt his milky skin. Wonderful, everything I had ever dreamed about. This was not a dream, but it was a nice dream, and I never wanted to wake up. I wanted to please him, to touch him and make him groan my name for me. I wanted it all. My hand increased its pace. I wanted to taste his cum.

My head bowed, my eyes constantly focused on his face as I flattened my tongue against the side of his erection and licked all the way up to the top. Butters' eyes opened suddenly and he gasped, not expecting me to so suddenly please him in such a way. It felt nice, and he gripped the sheets of my bed. I exhaled hotly through my nose, and watched his pleasured expressions as I rubbed my tongue against the slit of his cock. Precum was already forming there, and it tasted not unlike how Clyde had been so many years ago. But this was not Clyde, this was Butters. Clyde had only been practice to please Butters, and so with a great sense of pride, I lowered my mouth down on him.

If his gasps had been satisfying before, I was absolutely sated as he moaned above me with fervor. My hand was still wrapped around his base, and I pumped him, feeling his body underneath me and every move he made as I sucked him off. My tongue swirled around him, and I made a slight humming noise in my throat. Bobbing my head, I felt his hands reach down to grasp my hair lightly. I didn't mind, and continued to watch him as I blew him.

His erection swelled, needy in my mouth as his thighs trembled. It was happening. It was happening for real. No more fantasies, he was _mine_ and I heard him moaning above me. "K-Kenny... Kenny, Kenny I-! O-Oh hamburgers I- M-mm!" His hand reached up to cover his mouth, but I pulled it away. He looked down at me, and our eyes met. A blush immediately formed over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. I looked up with lowered eyelids, drawing his dick out with a pop and sucking only on the head in a way that was incredibly lewd. I knew it was, I had fantasized about him doing the same thing.

Our eyes still locked, I used this distraction to gently insert one of my fingers into him. He barely noticed, but squirmed anyway, and I resumed sucking ferociously. I moved my finger inside him up to the knuckle, and still he didn't notice. Taking this as a sign that he was thoroughly relaxed, I inserted another, and this time, he gasped.

"K-Kenny!" His blue eyes widened, and he tried to squirm away, but I held him by the hip and pulled him back down onto my fingers. I began to move them in and out, and I could hear him start to hyperventilate. He looked scared, so I sucked harder, trying to take his mind off of it. It shouldn't have hurt that bad, and I began to scissor him.

A couple minutes of this passed, and he started to untense and relax against my bed. He shook his head back and forth on my pillow, continuingly making 'mmm' noises. I couldn't tell if this was from pleasure or not, so I gently added my third finger. Butters inhaled sharply, and I shushed him with a kiss on his inner thigh before resuming licking and pumping him. I began to scissor my fingers inside of him, and my heart beat wildly as he bucked up into my mouth.

"K-Kenny." My name was repeated over and over again, his hands twisting in my hair, and I knew what was coming. Bracing myself, I tried to relax my gag reflex and deep throated him. His cock brushed lightly against the back of my throat, but I repressed the need to gag, and without much warning, he came inside my throat. His hips jerked up against my mouth, and he sat up, curling over my head. I continued to pump him, forcing him to ride out his orgasm as his thighs clenched shut and he cried out.

Butters trembled, and I breathed through my nose as I let him finish. He spasmed, sobbing and sputtering through a continuous stream of moans. My name was repeated multiple times, along with things that sounded something like 'fuck' and 'fella' and 'gosh'. After a while he relaxed, and I drew away slowly as he fell down against my sheets. I removed my fingers and listened to him pant.

I laid down next to him on my side and watched him as he recovered from orgasm. He really was beautiful. Everything about him was wonderful, and I noticed that his glasses had fogged up slightly. Small things like that made me hard, and I waited eagerly for him to finish recuperating so that I could finally fuck him. The idea made my head spin. How would I first do it? Would I use any toys, would I tie him up? What kink would I cater to? But no, this would happen again and again and again, tonight, I would use nothing other than my body alone. I didn't want to scare him, I wanted to make him feel safe. And so, when his breathing evened and I rolled over onto my back, I pulled him onto me and kissed him on the lips.

He responded lethargically, but kissed back with passion. His face felt wet, and I could tell he had been crying slightly. It was probably too intimate for him, as he hadn't done it in so long (_I was supposed to have been his first._). My hands massaged his back, running down along his shoulder blades and the dip before his ass.

"You did good Butters, you were wonderful. You see, I'll take care of you. Good care of you. Just trust me, and I'll make you feel amazing."

Again he didn't say anything, just kissed me again as I removed his glasses and set them down on the bedside table. I needed him. I was sure he could feel my erection strain against my pants, and what that and my fingering had meant.

"I think you should give back." My voice was quiet, and his was even quieter as he replied:

"Okay."

Maybe he knew what I wanted, or maybe he was not as innocent as I had thought, but he swung his leg over me so that he straddled my hips. Beneath his lap, Butters undid my zipper and let my erection spring free. I hissed, and my head went wild with lust and disbelief that it was actually happening. I couldn't contain myself, and reached up to plant a kiss on his lips. He kissed back, and massaged my cock gently. Falling back against the pillow, I watched in fascination as he sat up, angled my erection, and sunk slowly down on me.

I inhaled deeply.

I held it.

I stopped breathing.

I didn't remember when I exhaled.

Everything was Butters then. Butters Butters Butters as he ground down against my hips and let out a high pitched moan. He was already hard again, and I could feel myself inside him, him around me, clenching. It was bliss, perfection, and even my wildest dreams couldn't live up to what it actually felt like. Still clothed myself, he looked perfect, naked against me. I had to force myself not to thrust up inside him. So instead I grabbed his hips and pulled him down harder. This made Butters grunt slightly, and he placed his hands against my stomach for leverage.

"I-I trust you Kenny," Butters said, panting,"y-you're a great fella, y-you're the best boyfriend I could ever want. Thank you. T-Thank you so much."

With fascination, I watched him ride me. Up and down he moved, his legs spread wide straddling my lap, and his cock bouncing against his stomach each time that I jerked up into him. Pleasure overwhelmed me, and I could only smile. It felt so good, so right, so hot. This was what I lived for. This was my life and meaning, and always had been. I had been made to do this, to fuck Butters and hear him cry out my name as I hit his prostate over and over again. I could tell, because he flung his head back, and looked down at me entering him behind him. I put on a show, thrusting up hard, my hands reaching around to spread his ass slightly as I pounded into him.

Butters was heavy on top of me, his body hot and tight. His hair bounced with the momentum of my thrusts. Everything about him was perverted and lewd, the way his chest heaved and he parted his lips. I reached forward to grasp his erection, and he gasped, writing on top of me. I continued to pound into him, rubbing my cock against his prostate and watching as he mouthed my name over and over.

We continued our game, his grinding down and my grinding up. His strained muscles and my relaxed posture. His tears, and my grin. Everything about him and us was a motley combination of humanness and lust. He bounced on my lap, riding me, fucking me, and I controlled him. He couldn't do it without me. Without me, he would be nothing. And without him, I would be alone. And maybe it was okay, because we had each other, and when Butters cried out and came against my chest and clamped down on me, orgasm finally hit.

Finally, finally finally finally I came inside him, rising up to meet him and falling down to ride out orgasm as it enveloped me. It washed over me, enfolding me in heat and blackness, my world consumed by pleasure and tightness. My cum coated him inside, and I finally marked him. Mine. Mine. He was mine. Forever he would be mine, because I had fucked him and I had claimed him and I _owned him_. I would fuck him on all fours and in public and with a vibrator and while I choked him down on the floor. I wanted to make him scream. I wanted to whip him and bend him over and spank him until his ass was raw. I wanted him to blindfold me and humiliate me. I wanted everything, because I owned him. I owned Leopold Stotch.

My breathing slowed, my heart rate decreased, and he slumped against my chest. Crying. Butters was crying. Why was he crying?

"Kenny, I love you."

I felt cold.

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**Review if you've been waiting for some buttfucking all this time.**


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